


If Only For A Night

by JustBFree5



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Criminal Father, Day Date, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gifts, New York City, Original Character(s), Private Sanctuaries, Scars, Secret Relationship, Shared Meals, Slow Burn, Storms, The Four Seasons Hotel, girl talk, small town gossip, tragic past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 274,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustBFree5/pseuds/JustBFree5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Storybrooke, a secret friendship has formed between the lovely librarian and the town's most notorious dealer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beauty & the Bastard

If Only For A Night Chapter 1: Beauty & the Bastard

____________________

Returning from the stacks, Belle had just settled behind the main circulation desk when she heard that familiar _tap_ in cadence with a set of footsteps. She lifted her head to smile at the man himself just as Mr. Gold stepped in from the street.

Watching his approach, it was strange to think that he could command such dread in the residents of Storybrooke. Mr. Gold was a slight man, only a handful of inches taller than herself, really, and he kept very formal manners and attire. He was also dependent on a cane, but Belle saw it as more of a dashing accessory than proof of his handicap; she knew for herself that the man was stronger than he appeared: he'd recently impressed her by lifting a crate of encyclopedias that had been too heavy for her to move on her own.

No, he was not what anyone would first picture after being told of such an imposing figure in the town, but Belle had come to learn that, as he owned most of the buildings in Storybrooke and so dictated leases, Mr. Gold had gained the reputation of being a cunning dealer. This much Belle could believe; the man was highly intelligent, she was sure he could match wits with the whole of the town and come out the victor.

What she refused to believe were the rumors of his wrath - warnings of a vicious temper and unforgiving nature when faced with those who either couldn't or wouldn't pay their debts to him.

Belle just couldn't see it. Mr. Gold had never been anything less than pleasant with her, and they had even fallen into a routine of secret visits over the past few months. They saw each other several times a week, some visits being more brief than others, and no one knew of her visits to his shop.

She and Mr. Gold had an agreement toward discretion.

Belle hadn't mentioned him to her girlfriends to avoid the childish teasing she knew would come of it. Ruby especially would jump on the thought of something sordid going on between them when nothing could be further from the truth.

Not that Belle didn't catch herself in the odd daydream every now and then...

Mr. Gold smiled lightly as he approached her desk, and as always, he was dressed to the nines. Belle often thought that, if she could trade genders for a day, she would happily do so just for the chance to raid Mr. Gold's wardrobe. Eying the folded handkercheif peeking from his pocket, Belle bit her tongue to keep from telling him she wanted to try on his suit. As pleasant as they might be with one another, Belle doubted he would let her do so.

"Good morning Mr. Gold." She greeted.

The man came to stand before her at the circulation desk, gracing her with a thin smile in return. Others thought his smile to be condescending, while Belle had come to know him well enough to understand that he was simply not wont to big grins.

"Good morning to you, Miss French." He said, his accent warming the words.

She leaned a bit closer over the counter, "What brings you in so early? Another Dali painting to research or is it some fiction you're after? I've had a new mystery set come in that I'm sure you'd love, the whole series is set in your Scotland."

"You've quite the memory. No new paintings as of late, though I have come into possession of something wholly unique - an Egyptian scarab from the reign of Nefertiti."

Belle's eyes widened, "You're joking!"

Gold shook his head, "Never. You are, of course, welcome to come see it any time you like...perhaps later today, if you're-"

His invitation was interrupted by the library doors opening to reveal a gaggle of children headed up by Mary-Margaret Blanchard. He had had few dealings with the teacher, really he only engaged with her when collecting the rent but she had always been pleasant with him and always had her money on time. High points in her favor. Outside of that, they would usually only give a greeting to each other in passing on the street.

"Oh, it's Wednesday. New book day for Mary-Margaret's top readers." Belle confided to him in a quick whisper while directing her smile to Mary-Margaret and waving her forward from the door.

"Ah, I'll leave you to it, then. And I'll leave you with this," Gold set the take-away cup he'd been holding on the counter between them. "There was some mix-up in the kitchens and Miss Lucas gave me an extra coffee." He tilted his head toward the excited children. "From the looks of this group I think you'll need it."

Grateful, Belle took the coffe and put her hand over his, giving his fingers a quick squeeze of thanks on the counter. "You're a lifesaver, Mr. Gold."

It wasn't until after the children left and the library was quiet once again that Belle realized Gold had brought her coffee just the way she preferred it.


	2. Visit

It was mid-afternoon the next day before Belle was able to get away from work and seek out her friend. She waited for her lunch hour to roll around before she locked the library and skipped down the street to his shop.

Catching a blur of movement in the window, Gold looked up from the pendants he'd been logging for inventory. He saw her stride in, all smiles in a deep rose dress and nude peep-toe heels. So lovely. Much as he had tried to keep his usual bland expression in place, this woman brought out his rarely-used smile. "Miss French."

"Hello, Mr. Gold."

Gold stilled his pen and set his ledger aside, happy for once to be interrupted from his work. "Twice in as many days - to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Belle strode right up to the counter and set a thermos before him, "You were kind enough to bring over a pick-me-up the other day, so I thought I'd return the favor."

Gold rolled the pen between his fingers. "No, no, I told you earlier, that was just a mix-up with the order..."

As she gingerly took a seat across the counter from him, Belle eyed the man knowingly, and smiled. She wasn't sure why, but the urge to tease him was strong today. Perhaps she just wanted to see him smile again, he did it so rarely. "Of course, a mix-up. No worries, Mr. Gold." She winked at him. "Your secret is safe with me."

"And what secret would that be, Miss French?"

Belle shrugged before taking a sip from her bottle of Ginger Ale, "Just that you're not as bad as everyone thinks you are."

The man smirked a bit at her summation. If she only knew. "Oh, that. You're right," he fixed her with a mocking glare. "I'm worse."

"Sure you are." She dismissed his attempt at intimidation, eagerly revealing her true interest. "So where's that new treasure you got in?"

They had done this dance many times. Gold would mention a new piece he had in the shop as she assisted him in his research at the library, and then she would come to see the piece in person. He hadn't minded her first visit in the least; to his surprise he'd found himself enjoying the time with her, and so began to invite her round to the shop every time he had a new piece to show. It'd become their private routine for the past few months. There wasn't anyone else he could discuss his historied treasures with, and if he was honest with himself, Gold was just as susceptible to the charming woman as any other man. Perhaps he was baiting her a bit, but what was the harm?

"Well, there's the scarab I mentioned and a few lesser pieces from that era." Gold took an experimental sip from the thermos, eyes widening in pleasant surprise. The tea was rich with the natural sweetness of peaches. "This is wonderful, thank you."

Belle smiled, "Oh, I'm glad you like it. It's a new blend, I haven't tried it yet."

"You wanted to test it on me first?" He asked in amusement.

"If you like it, then it's a safe bet I'll like it too."

"You sound so sure."

"We have similar tastes, which brings me to the reason of my visit..." Belle urged him.

Mr. Gold put a hand over his heart, "You wound me, Miss French. Here I thought you wanted my company when the truth is you're only here to see the scarab."

"Oh, please! Of course I'm here to see you, the scarab is just a benefit. But I am on my lunch break, so show me the goods!" Belle demanded with a laugh, her impatience getting the better of her. She loved spending time with Mr. Gold, but right now she truly was pressed for time.

"As my lady wishes." Gold gave a mocking bow and slipped behind the curtain, to the back room of the shop.

"'My lady', I like that!" Belle called after him.

He returned with a preservation box in his free hand. "I'll keep that in mind for later, dearie." He set the box on the counter between them, and turned it to face her, opening it to reveal the jeweled treasure within. "Look, but don't touch. I've only just begun the restoration work, it's very delicate."

Belle's eyes widened at the sight of it. A scarab molded from pure gold, its wings inlaid with a repeating pattern of gemstones, gripping an emerald the size of a small bird egg in its forearms. It was much larger than she had expected it to be, and far more elaborate than the simple beetle she'd pictured in her mind when he'd mentioned the find the day before - but she shouldn't have been surprised, Mr. Gold wouldn't have bothered with the thing if it was just a plain sandstone carving. The man trafficked in rare, beautiful artifacts, and Belle had come to learn and endlessly appreciate that Gold's fascination wasn't solely for things of monetary value, but for things with a remarkable history.

Heeding him, Belle didn't touch it, though her fingers itched to run over the jeweled wings, to feel the texture of the stones. To think, that the scarab had been held by Nefertiti herself! The thought was dizzying.

"This is amazing. You know, I've always been fascinated by ancient Egypt, especially Cleopatra." Belle mused, picturing for a moment the great pyramids of Egypt, the Pharos who sailed the Nile river in their grand boats, all under the heat of the exotic desert sun.

"I'm not surprised. A woman of remarkable intelligence, fluent in several languages, as charming as she was beautiful - I daresay you're something of a Cleopatra yourself."

Belle's eyes widened at the grand compliment. For a moment, she was well and truly speechless. "I...thank you."

Mr. Gold hurriedly cleared his throat and reclaimed the artifact, closing the preservation box and moving to put it on a shelf under the counter. He would get back to work on it later that evening. "How are things at the library?"

It was a lame change of subject, but small talk always worked as a distraction when he felt that he'd overstepped by saying too much.

Belle sipped at her soda again, then licked her lips. Gold pretended not to notice. "Things are going well. We're going to start hosting more events for the schoolchildren in relation to their projects - you know, like Solar System Saturday and Founding Fathers Friday."

"Sounds wonderful."

"Oh, it will be. I'm hoping this will lead to me working there full-time." She confided.

Gold blinked at this news. "You're only there part-time?"

"I'm there a few days out of the week. It's lucky you've caught me there so often."

Luck and the care to make sure to visit only when he'd seen her unlock the doors from his shop window so he wouldn't go inside to find the unpleasant Mrs. Mullins working the desk instead. He'd made that mistake once right after the library had opened, and would not do so again. But that Belle was only a part-time employee was a revelation, and distantly he wondered how she could afford her apartment with only partial work. Perhaps there was a lover she'd never mentioned to him who helped to pay in the keeping of her, but Gold dismissed the thought; he didn't like the notion of Belle with any man, and he knew dawn well why.

"Lucky for us both, I think." Gold remarked. "I'm sure no one else who visits brings anything of much interest with them."

"You wouldn't be wrong." She agreed.

The schoolchildren and the other patrons she saw during the week were all very kind, but none could hold a candle to Mr. Gold. After their first private visit, Belle had become convinced that he was the most interesting man in the world, having been everywhere and seen everything, and, luckily, he was willing to share his adventures with her own undeserving self.

"I never am."

"And you're never modest!" Belle laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder across the counter. "But you're right, no one else comes in with invitations to see scarabs or warrior masks or kimonos."

Only three weeks prior, Belle had been so taken with the Japanese garment that she'd asked to see it several times while he restored it for a museum in Chicago, even buying herself a cheap imitation robe off the Internet. Silly, she knew, but she liked to wear it and imagine herself as a pampered geisha while she drank green tea and ate noodles in her apartment on Sundays.

"I aim to please, though I don't have much else to show right now. I think you've seen it all."

That much might be true. Belle visited him in the shop so often that they may have gone over everything in his possession; every statue, music box, antique clock, painting and piece of jewelry had taken pride of place in Belle's eyes as they were restored by Gold's skilled hands.

He did have a house full of things he knew Belle would adore, of course, but the thought of her lost in the corridors of his home was too tempting to voice.

"Nonsense, there's always something to see!" To illustrate her point, Belle gestured to an ornate chess set that she was sure hadn't been there during her last visit to his shop only a few days before.

Gold took a breath, ready to explain the history of the set - he'd procured it from a private collection on learning that it had belonged to Hungarian nobility - but stopped short when he caught a glimpse of their charming Mayor Mills approaching the shop from across the street. As much as he relished the rivalry that had developed between them, Regina wouldn't hesitate to pull Belle into it...if she saw her, that was.

"Miss French, if you would please step into the back."

Belle looked up from the chess set. "Hmm?"

"Regina is coming. Please."

If Belle had ever thought this request to be rude, she had never said so, and did as he asked, slipping through the curtains just as Regina came through the door. Gold asking that Belle duck out to hide when he had another visitor had become part of their routine.

Regina Mills was a force to be reckoned with in Storybrooke. Intelligent, beautiful and completely fearless, their mayor stormed into his shop, a vision of alluring fury. Gold often thought she'd be prettier if she smiled more, but he wasn't one to talk when he was usually the reason for her scowls.

In his own way, Gold cared for Regina - her determination was admirable, she had worked for years to earn a measure of power that may overstep into his own if he didn't keep her in check. She had grown to be a worthy opponent, and he liked to think she enjoyed their rivalry as much as he did...but then again, he always came out on top in their boughts so it may not be all that fun for her.

Gold rested his palms on the counter, smiling at her in greeting. "Afternoon, Regina."

"That's Madame Mayor to you, Gold."

"You're in a mood today."

"Yes, I usually get a little moody when you turn the town council against my ordinance proposal!"

Just behind the scenes, Belle looked around, moving away from the curtain that separated the shop from the back room, which was more a workshop than an office, as Gold called it. There was a work table covered with hand tools and half of a rebuilt grandfather clock. She didn't linger on it, instead she settled on one of the stools and idly looked over an old nation map that had been laid out over the counter. She could hear the mayor and Mr. Gold sniping back and forth, but Belle tried not to eavesdrop. Their heated rivalry was legend, though no one knew why.

"...always coming to me...it's very flattering, dearie but I do have more important things to be doing..."

"...not what you were saying last night, as I recall you jumped at the chance to meet with me-"

"-and quite a lovely memory that was, one I'll treasure."

"Oh, please, the only things you treasure are in this shop. I should burn it to the ground and make you watch."

"My, is that jealousy?"

"Ugh, I'll see you later."

"Oh, I'm counting the minutes."

Belle could hear the sharp clicking of the mayor's Louboutins, followed by the sound of the shop door closing.

"Come on out, Miss French." Gold called over his shoulder as he watched Regina storm across the street.

Belle emerged from the back, her brows lifted. "Everything all right?"

Mr. Gold simply shrugged. "The mayor and I, we do love our quarrels."

"Sure sounds like it." Belle agreed. "I promise I wasn't eavesdropping, it's just that your voices carry."

"Did you see anything interesting while you were back there?" Gold asked, moving on from the topic of their cunning mayor.

She smiled. "I wasn't snooping, if that's what you're worried about."

"Good. If you had been, it would ruin the surprise."

"What surprise?"

"The new piece I'm to start restoring, once I've finished with the scarab."

"What is it?" Belle asked eagerly.

Gold gave her a mischievous grin, both hands planted on the handle of his cane. "Not telling."

Belle checked her watch and sent him a mock glare. "You're lucky I have to be getting back, but I'll get the truth out of you sooner or later."

"Looking forward to it." Gold teased.

Belle huffed past him and ran out the door.


	3. The Start

Months earlier, when the town had only just been emerging from the last dregs of winter, Gold had made habit of watching the renovation of the Storybrooke library.

For decades, there had been no library at all. Being a small beachside town, there had been no need when nearby Sunshire had a library large enough to share. A rapidly expanding population and a single, strong voice armed with half the town's signatures had been enough to force the city council to take notice.

The mayor had objected to the idea, citing the high cost of the construction, but the citizen support would not be silenced. Naturally, Gold had thrown himself into appropriating the funds, even donating a large sum from his personal balance to see the project given top priority after nudging its approval.

It was petty, of course, but he and Regina lived to be at odds over most things.

Once the location was scouted and architectural designs approved, construction began. Gold would pass the building every morning on his way to the shop and again, every evening when business was done for the day and he would return home.

Bit by bit, there was progress to be seen: the reparation of a large crack on the front face of the building, the remolding of the breezeway, the addition of bright decorative shutters on each side of the library's four windows that framed the front entrance, a fresh coat of cheery paint, a sign advertising the opening date.

The change was slow, the transition of a derelict building into what was to be both a library and community center was no small feat. A few words in the rights ears had hurried construction along. Having had a hand in the approval for its renovation, Gold had been eager to see the final product.

Perhaps he had grown bored with his routine haunts and had wanted to find a new place for himself, somewhere quiet where he could read or catch up on paperwork. His shop and even his home study had grown stifling in the past several years, and Miss Lucas grew irritable when he would occupy a prime boothe at Granny's to go over contracts with only an endless string of coffee refills on order.

So, he had waited a week or so after the grand opening before venturing inside with both curiosity and the genuine need for historical research.

The man had stepped in on a Tuesday morning to find a handful of patrons inside already: there was Donald Scott reading at a table, a pair of older ladies going through magazines, and a young pregnant woman lounging in a plush chair, balancing a novel on her swollen tummy.

She looked due at any time. Gold felt a shiver of remembrance and looked away.

"Good morning, can I help you find anything?"

Mr. Gold turned to his left to find a young woman approaching him. He raised a brow, taking in her apparent youth - the woman didn't look a day over thirty, a far cry from what most associated with the title of librarian. She was young, yes, and dressed in a smart pair of slacks and matching blazer, and, by Gold's estimate, she was trying just a bit too hard with her hair slicked back into a tight bun paired with black horn-rimmed glasses.

Well.

At least she was trying to look the part of the professional librarian, now to see if she was truly up to the task.

"Do you have anything on Apaches?"

The young librarian didn't miss a beat. "The Native American tribe or the military helicopters?"

At once, Gold was impressed. No small feat. "Ah, the tribe. I've come into a collection of arrowheads and I need to authenticate."

"I have just the book, right this way."

Gold followed her to the back section devoted to historical reference, then down an aisle where she dragged the tips of her fingers along the spine of each book they passed. She paused and pulled a book free, handing it to him proudly.

"This is the one. You'll find what you're looking for."

"You sound confident." He remarked, not taking the book from her. He kept his hands planted on the cane before him.

"I am." She turned the book over to show him the author's picture, an octogenarian professor from Arizona that Gold had never heard of. "See, the author is the leading authority on Native American culture. He tours for lectures, some of his fiction has been turned into movies and he's even won a Pulitzer for one of his past works. Trust me, this is the book."

Gold was, again, impressed by her knowledge. She'd rattled off the author's accomplishments without even a breath of hesitation. He nodded and took the book from her.

"I'll hold you to that, you know." It was something like a warning, but there was no steel behind his words.

"I'm sure you will. Did you need anything else?"

"No, but I'll be back if I don't find what I'm looking for in these pages."

The librarian raised her brows, taking his light challenge. "You'll be back either way."

"Hmm?"

"The book is due back in a week. I'll see you then."

That had been the first encounter between Mr. Gold and Miss Belle French, the first meeting of the minds and matching of wits, but it wouldn't be the last.

____________________

The young librarian, Miss French, the very same woman who had worked for the signatures to open the library in the first place, had been correct in her confidence for the book.

Gold had gone back to return it after finding the information he'd needed, feeling the rare urge to thank her personally for her assistance. He'd found her in the back stacks after turning the book in to Mrs. Mullins at the front desk.

"Miss French?"

She'd looked up and smiled, recognizing him easily. "Was I right?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad I could help. Do you mind if I ask what you're going to do with the arrowheads?"

Gold raised his brows, slowly realizing that this young woman had no fear of him. No fear, no resentment, no obvious intent to manipulate. It had been quite some time since he'd met anyone who just wanted to make conversation.

"I'm planning to sell them to a collector in New Mexico. Once I found them to be genuine, the sale fell into place."

"You didn't waste any time."

"Most sales like these are time sensitive, it's part of the business."

"Antiques dealing?"

"Yes. I came to return last week's book and I've come looking for another."

Gold had explained to her the piece he'd come across, and saved them both time as he already knew the book he needed for his research - a rare Italian catalog that was older than he was, and not by a bit.

Storybrooke's library unfortunately did not carry a copy, as there were only eight copies in global circulation, and none of them were available in the States.

Gold had resigned himself to make due with whatever other sources he could find, unaware that Miss Belle French had sensed an opportunity for herself and refused to give up on it so easily.

____________________

It wasn't that she didn't know who he was.

Almost everyone was familiar with Mr. Gold, the town pawnbroker, landlord, lawyer and dealer. He owned several apartment buildings, a few of them housing her friends though Belle herself didn't rent from him. She knew his reputation, the supposedly horrible Mr. Gold who instilled fear in the hearts of men and all other sorts of nonsense - the town gossip made him out to be some supernatural monster when really, he was just a crafty businessman.

It made her wonder why he lived in a small town like Storybrooke when he could make a real splash in Boston or New York, but she supposed everyone had their reasons for living where they did.

Belle shifted the tote strap on her shoulder, pausing outside the large storefront window.

She had seen the shop but she had never set foot inside simply because she possessed nothing valuable enough to pawn - even her mother's gold necklace wouldn't be worth more than $100 at the most and she was careful enough with her paychecks that she hadn't had to resort to that. With luck and hard work, she never would.

Rare antiques had never been on her shopping list either, so Belle's contact with Mr. Gold and his shop had been nonexistent until their recent connection at the library.

Well.

There was reason enough to approach the shop now, to visit the man on his own territory.

Belle stepped inside, her eyes roaming the dim space. There were so many curious things in the shop that she hardly knew where to look first: there was a wall hung with musical instruments; shelves of old, leather bound books; a gorgeous glass mobile hung from the ceiling, glinting in the sunlight coming in from the window; there were so many curious statues, so many little odds and ends...

Belle spied a counter at the back of the shop with a steaming up of tea on its surface, but no shop keeper. "Mr. Gold?"

She looked over as a curtain behind the counter was pulled back and the man himself appeared, raising a brow to see her. "Miss French, how can I be of service?"

Belle looked him over, dressed as always in a trim suit, matching tie and pocket square. She adored his style, formal as it was, and wondered what he thought of her own attire: not as tailored as his own, but she always made the effort to look polished.

"It's me who'll be servicing you today, Mr. Gold."

Gold blinked at her, his posture suddenly rigid. "Pardon?"

Too late, Belle realized how her words could have come across but she ignored the innuendo and went on, bringing the book out of her tote. "Special delivery, all the way from Milan."

His eyes widened slightly at the book, immediately excited. He needed the resource desperately. "Brilliant. How much do I owe you?"

Belle shook her head, "It's only on loan to us, so I can't sell it to you...but there is something I want."

Gold raised a brow at her, sensing a deal to be made. " _Quid pro quo_ , is it? You hold something I need, I have something you want - come on, name your price."

Belle set the book on the counter between them. "This will be easy, I promise. I want to see the sculpture. Please, Mr. Gold. I've never seen anything like it outside of a museum."

No future favors? No gift?

The woman wanted such a simple thing, and she held the book he needed. Gold easily agreed to her term, and excused himself into the back room to retrieve the piece for her to see.

He was sure she expected something bigger, something grander, but what he had was only a simple statuette relic from the time of Galileo. When it was new, Gold was sure the sculpture had been a lovely thing, but traveling across the world, being smuggled through war zones and being handled for centuries had done the piece no favors.

He was amused when her eyes lit up as he revealed it. "Oh wow, it's gorgeous!"

"I'm not inclined to agree." Gold told her. He hadn't been impressed to come upon the piece but it might bring him some agreeable income if it was indeed genuine.

Belle had reached for it, but Gold was quick to still her hand with his own, his grip gentle so as not to hurt, but firm enough to convey his meaning. "You can touch anything else in the shop, but this piece is off-limits until I finish my work."

Belle nodded her understanding, and he released her hand. "Mr. Gold, can I come back? You have so many things in here..."

He saw no reason to refuse her. If Miss French was as interested in his work as she claimed, then there was no harm. And, he reasoned, it might be nice to have someone to talk to for a change.

"I can't promise you much entertainment." He admitted.

"I don't need a song and dance, this is fascinating on its own." She said eagerly, her eyes practically eating the statue's worn grooves and hairline cracks.

"You think so?"

"Of course! All this history, right here in front of us, just think what this statue has seen, the people who've owned it over the years."

It was her energy that made the choice for him. She was so excited to learn about his work, to see the process in action. There was a vibrancy to her, and she was lovely besides.

Gold cleared his throat. "You are welcome to visit any time, Miss French."

It was later on that day that Mr. Gold realized he genuinely liked her.

Belle of course, hadn't taken nearly so long to reach the same conclusion.


	4. Discretion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read, review, and enjoy!

Perhaps a month or so after the beginning of his budding friendship, Gold had just settled in a booth at Granny's diner with a coffee beside his elbow, his breakfast of honeyed oatmeal with toast before him, and a few contracts at his side. It was Sunday, the shop would remain closed for the day, and so Gold chose to have an easygoing day to himself. A bit of paperwork with breakfast, and then he had shopping to attend to along with rent collection.

"Mr. Gold!"

He looked up and found Miss French sliding into the booth to sit across from him. She looked different than he was used to seeing her; the most striking change was that her hair was let down from its usual twist, revealing loose curls that fell down her back. Added to that, tastefully smudged black liner circled her eyes and her lips were a deeper shade of berry. A kicky sundress, bright beaded necklace and sandals had taken the place of her professional attire. Small gold hoops hung from her ears.

So this was Miss French on a spring weekend. She was the very picture of pretty. "Good morning."

"What are you doing here?"

He gestured to the paperwork, "The shop is closed on Sundays, and I had a bit of work to go over before some errands. And you, Miss French?"

Belle shrugged lightly, "I'm in the same boat. Off work and free for the day. Do you mind if I share your table? It's already grown crowded in here."

Gold glanced about them, noticing the number of people coming in to stand about the counter until a free table opened. "Not at all. What'll you have?"

Belle eyed his coffee. "I would have another but I had a cup at home already. I'm more in the mood for something sweet."

Ruby approached and Belle ordered herself a croissant with strawberries and orange juice. Others worriedly noticed Belle sitting with Gold and assumed that they were arranging some kind of deal due to the paperwork on the table between them. Belle was not as oblivious to this as Gold might have wished.

"And what are your plans for today?" Gold asked, genuinely curious. It occurred to him that he didn't know much about her outside of her assistance in the library and the interest she had in his work, the history behind his antiques.

Belle shrugged lightly, "Well, I'm overdue for a haircut, for a start. Then I need to pick up some groceries and hit the laundromat. Jealous of my glamorous Sunday?" She asked with a smile.

Gold allowed a smile to flicker across his face in return, just for a moment. "I am. I'd rather visit the laundry than collect rent."

"Oh, you're doing that today?"

"Yes, and if this month is like all the others then I'm bound to hear every excuse there is about why payment will either be late or incomplete. Everything from the dog eating the cash or the mail having failed to deliver a check."

Belle thanked Ruby once she set down her plate and then sipped at her juice. "Someone tried that? Blaming it on the dog?"

"Pongo had a craving that day, I suppose. The only good thing about that story is the tenant can't give the same excuse twice."

Belle shared a laugh with him over that, and their conversation flowed as easily in the diner as it had at the shop during her visits. Gold posed a few more casual questions to her, and Belle did the same with him, both in the mood for a bit of harmless probing.

"I have an upcoming restoration project, Miss French." He informed her.

Belle leaned forward, her interest piqued. She loved that he gave her an inside look at his work, permitting her to see first hand what it was he did in the back room of the shop. Town gossip said he made shady deals all day long without a care over who was hurt, but obviously that was the pack of lies Belle knew it had to be.

"What's the project?"

"How familiar are you with the work of Salvador Dali?" Gold asked. He, in turn, loved this game they'd developed. He would mention an art style, a photographer or author, an instrument or a poetic movement, and then watch as the gears turned in Miss French's mind. In their albeit brief acquaintance, she had not disappointed him once.

Today was no exception. He watched as Belle briefly closed her eyes, no doubt pulling through her mind for everything she knew of the artist - from his paintings to his literature and then on to his political leanings and the museums established in his name.

In a breath, Belle told him what she knew off-hand, and recommended several books that would be helpful in researching the odd artist. Impressed, Gold went on to tell her of the painting that would pass hands between himself and a private collector after he'd done a touch of cleaning over the delicate canvas.

"You're so lucky to be in this position, to be surrounded by such beautiful things and the history behind them."

Gold shook his head at that. "I am fortunate, but I didn't fall into this. It's taken years of work to get to this point."

"Of course," Belle agreed. She hadn't meant to gloss over the decades of experience he'd gained, the rightful respect he'd earned in building his business. "I'm sure it's taken a lot of sleepless nights."

"Oh, it's taken more than a few of those." Gold remarked, his thoughts turning inward for a moment. Sometimes he couldn't fall asleep, and then there were nights when he refused to sleep...

"I know the feeling, Mr. Gold. When I was trying to petition the city for the funding toward the library, convince people to give their signature for support, I don't think I slept for a month." Belle reflected.

Gold was tempted to tell her that she owed him for the library, as the project never would have come to fruition had he not taken an interest just to annoy Regina. He instead kept quiet about his level of involvement; no doubt Belle knew he held a position on the city council and had heard the rumors surrounding his reach into all corners of the town, but he didn't want to take away from her accomplishment.

"The library is wonderful, Miss French. The community programs seem to be taking off as well." The renovated building that housed the library also hosted the town's community center; there were craft classes, continuing education courses, choirs and dance instruction, dog training and even a fitness gym with weekly sports focus.

Belle's smile brightened even further at his praise. "Thank you for saying that. I've taken a few of the dance classes over there but I think I'm a lost cause."

"Perhaps you just haven't found the right partner." Gold suggested.

"Oh, are you offering?"

It was with regret that Gold lifted his cane from where he'd rested it on his lap, reminding her of his limitation. "I would if I could, Miss French."

Belle nodded her understanding. "Maybe just a walk, then."

Gold shrugged and resettled the cane over his lap. Yes, just a walk, because the gods knew he couldn't run and any dance more than a slow box step would be out of the question. He wasn't sure how their conversation had taken this turn, but he didn't like having to remind her that, unlike every other man in Storybrooke, he alone was unable to dance with her.

_Nothing for it now_ , he decided. _Best to stay on safe ground._

Belle noticed a frown that passed over Mr. Gold's face as he set down his cane, but just as quickly, it was gone, and he began to discuss the Dali painting once more. There was a challenge in his voice that she recognized; he was testing her knowledge, part of the game they'd developed, part of a budding routine.

Well, Belle would not disappoint him.

Before they'd realized the time, Belle and Gold had talked near to the lunch hour after the mention of the Dali piece had naturally lead them to discuss their other favored artists. Gold had found himself having fun with the lively debate, and delighted to find Miss French to be just as sharp as he when it came to art history.

Unfortunately, it was Belle who realized the time. "Oh, Mr. Gold we'll have to finish this later - we've been talking for over two hours!"

Gold checked his watch. It hadn't seemed to him that any time had passed but the hands of his watch weren't lying. "Time flies, Miss French. Let me take care of this," he said once he saw her reaching into her purse. Gold was a modern man, but certain habits would never die - a woman shouldn't pay for a meal shared with a man, never mind that their combined breakfasts hadn't topped $10.00.

It was the principle of the thing.

Gold left $20 on the table and guided her toward the door of the diner, a gentle hand on the small of her back.

They parted ways at the corner, he off to collect the rent and she to her own errands.

It had been their first meeting in public, and the town had taken notice.

____________________

After leaving Mr. Gold, Belle hurried toward the Seaside Spa & Salon. It was a tiny spot, tucked into a strip between a children's clothing store and an ice cream parlor. Despite the location, the salon did a good bit of business - there being no other quality salons to create competition had allowed Ariel Finn, Belle's friend since middle school, to corner the market.

"I know, I know I'm late!" Belle called out as she rushed in the door. "It was my fault, please tell me you didn't give away my appointment."

Two of the other hairdressers, Melody and Harmony, Ariel's older and younger sister, respectively, greeted Belle and reassured her she'd still get her slot.

"Haven't seen you lately, Belle."

"Ariel will see you in just a minute. She's finishing up with Jasmine in the back. How's it going with the library?"

Belle gratefully set her purse down on the counter of Ariel's station and made small talk with both the sisters and their clients, all of them happily catching up.

"-just the best color!"

Belle looked to the back of the salon and smiled to see Jasmine, another old friend from school, striding out with a fresh manicure and Ariel just two steps behind her.

The pair were opposites in looks but identical in their bright smiles on seeing Belle. "Well, look who finally decided to show up!" Ariel greeted her with a quick hug.

Belle huffed lightly, "I know and I'm sorry, want me to beg for forgiveness?"

Jasmine tossed her ebony hair over her shoulder. "Ariel's not the type to make anyone squirm, but you'll definitely need to promise a great tip unless you want to walk out of here with a pixie cut."

Ariel nodded her agreement as she settled Jasmine's bill at the front. "I've been trying to get her to try a shorter look for years. I don't know, Jas, today might be the day."

Jasmine signed her receipt and handed it back to her. "I'd love to see that, promise to send me a pic."

Ariel waved as Jasmine left the salon and turned back to Belle. "Now, you. I think either a spikey Mohawk or maybe a curly little Afro - which will you have?"

Harmony laughed and Melody called out, "C'mon, don't torture her!"

Ariel shook her head. "All right, all right. Ruin all my fun. What'll you have, B?"

"Just the usual, please."

"Your usual. A wash and a trim, that's it?"

Belle shrugged. "That's all my budget allows for, I'm afraid."

Ariel loved her job and she was exceptionally skilled; most of the women of Storybrooke owed their fabulous hair to the petite redhead, but she was something of an artist and longed to experiment on her friends. Unfortunately for her, Ariel's friends were too traditional and perhaps a bit too sane to agree to blue and pink streaks or a half-shaved head.

"And here I thought you were saving your pennies for me." Ariel groused. She knew that Belle had to be careful with what little money she had, but Belle always insisted on paying full price for her services, refusing Ariel's offer of a friendly discount.

"Just the trim, Ariel."

"Fine, you know the drill. Let's get you washed up." Ariel lead the way to the short row of sinks and put a towel around Belle's shoulders. Belle settled into the tilted chair and leaned back into the hot water. Ariel stood to her left and began to massage a palmful of shampoo into her hair.

"So the word is you met with Mr. Gold at the diner this morning."

Belle blinked in surprise. "How do you know about that?"

Ariel shrugged. "Grapevine. Ruby texted Jasmine while I was doing her nails, Jasmine told me. So...?"

"We were just sharing the table when it got too crowded and ended up arguing over Dali and Tintoretto." Belle said easily. She'd noticed that they'd earned a few glances from other customers at the diner but she hadn't thought their having breakfast to be worth much gossip.

Then again, this was Storybrooke and Mr. Gold was an important man.

"I've heard things about him."

At her prompting, Belle stood up and they moved to the chair where Ariel began to comb out her hair.

"Like what?"

With all care, Ariel began to snip off the split ends of Belle's hair. "He makes shady deals, they say he cheats everybody. People are afraid of him."

"It's the gossip that sounds shady. Do you actually know him?" Belle asked, growing annoyed now. Really, she shared breakfast with the man and her friend acted as if she was courting a crime lord.

Snipping away, Ariel shrugged. "No, just what I've heard."

"Well, he was nice enough to me." Belle said.

Ariel shrugged, and wondered if it wasn't too late to cut Belle's hair into a pixie.

"I'm just saying be careful. You don't earn a reputation like his by accident."

____________________

"I have a strange question for you." Belle announced on entering the pawn shop before its owner even had the chance to greet her. Where she had thought a certain gossip topic would drop, the rumors had grown with each passing day and she'd been forced to nod through concerned lectures.

Gold raised a brow, curious now. "I'm all ears."

"After we had breakfast on Sunday, did anyone give you a hard time?" She asked, dragging over a stool so that she could sit across from where he was standing behind the counter.

It was irritating - in the course of three days, Belle had been warned by as many people that Mr. Gold was too clever for her to tangle with, all of them under the assumption that she and Gold had been working on some kind of loan or personal arrangement. Clearly, the two of them just sharing breakfast was impossible to consider.

She was met with a blank expression, and then bit her tongue. Of course no one would hassle Mr. Gold - he gave orders, he didn't take them.

"It's just, I got a warning lecture from three people that I need to be careful around you."

Understanding dawned in Gold's eyes. "Oh, that old speech, how I'll cheat you on every deal until I own your life. I'm quite familiar, and yes, I was reminded to keep my hands to myself around you as well."

"What?!"

"You're lucky to have so many concerned friends, but I can't say I appreciate the insinuations." Gold said easily, as if this was all business as usual for him. It wasn't, and he wouldn't tolerate being warned away from her again, but he was interested in her reaction.

She was angry, that much he could tell from the flash in her eyes.

Belle knawed at the inside of her cheek and counted to ten, trying to get her temper under control. "If they were really my friends they wouldn't jump to conclusions and then warn you behind my back."

"I agree."

"Can I ask who spoke to you?" Belle asked. Whoever it was that approached Gold, she would be more than happy to give them a piece of her mind.

Mr. Gold quirked his lips. "I've already dealt with them."

Again, Gold's voice was smooth, careless. Belle couldn't understand why the man didn't seem insulted, or more upset. Why hadn't he called her to complain about her supposed friends harassing him? Was he truly so indifferent to being watched, his every move seen as suspicious?

Mr. Gold only appeared amused over these assumptions on their innocent breakfast, whereas Belle was near furious by the invasion into her personal life. Small towns were notorious for everyone knowing everyone else's business, and all at once, Belle _hated_ it in Storybrooke. She longed for the anonymity of living in a larger city, but that was a dream she'd already let slip through her fingers time and time again.

Gold slowly tapped his fingertips on the counter top. "So, if you were warned by so many people to stay away...why did you come back?"

"The last time I checked, I was a grown woman. No one tells me who I should spend my time with, I'm the only one to decide that." Belle took a breath and looked back to him, "And besides, I trust my intuition. If you were half as bad as they said, I'd have felt it by now and stayed away on my own."

"Famous last words, Miss French." Gold told her with something like a smile touching his lips.

Belle laughed at him, sure he was just playing with her now. She knew it, _this_ was the Mr. Gold that so few people knew about; he was usually very aloof, even to her, but he had a wicked sense of humor when he chose to show it.

"If I go dark on you, just remember: you were warned."

Belle brushed off this warning just as she had all the others. "Sure, sure. How about we just be discreet when we meet up from now on? I don't need five lectures every time I see you."

Gold raised his brows. "You still want to-?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

It was not in Gold's nature to cheat himself out of a good thing, and visits from a woman who found him fascinating had become the highlights of his week. He enjoyed Belle's intelligence and took pleasure in her beauty, but fair was fair. She deserved to know.

He looked at her seriously. "You know the reputation that precedes me, Miss French. It's not all true, but enough of it is that you should think twice before we go on as friends."

She looked back at him, her face as serious as he'd ever seen it. They stood, staring. He could see her considering his words, because after all, it was one thing to be warned by a few concerned friends, and quite another to be warned off by the man himself.

"Mr. Gold, you're the most interesting man in the world. It's going to take more than a little gossip to scare me away." Belle smiled at him.

She had made her choice, and she chose him.

Gold tried to ignore the warm feeling spreading throughout his chest. So he had a friend, nothing to get excited about. Still...a friend, after so long a time without...

"Perhaps not the world, but certainly in this town." Gold mused, more pleased with her than he could easily say. He cleared his throat and gave her his best condescending sneer. "Fine then, if you are so determined to intrude in on my life, inflicting your presence with your constant questions and chatter, I suppose I can tolerate you for a bit longer."

Belle burst out laughing, and this time he joined her.

"You're so generous!" She extended her hand, still laughing. "Let's be friends and just keep it to ourselves. The gossips can go find someone else to talk about."

"My thoughts exactly." Gold agreed as he shook her hand.


	5. Closer

Blinking away that memory from weeks ago, Gold kept their agreement in mind when he saw Belle crossing the street toward his shop. Her visits were brief, but always welcome. Judging by her smart blazer and pencil skirt, she was working the library. Gold glanced at his watch. 12:15. This would be one of her lunch hour visits, though she hadn't brought anything with her this time. She had spoiled him with her gifts of flavored tea and the sandwiches made for them to share.

No matter, he could brew tea for two.

"Good afternoon, Miss French."

She smiled at him, and Gold was certain his shop was brighter for it. "Hi, Mr. Gold."

"Busy day in the stacks?"

Coming closer, she pulled up the stool reserved solely for her, and sat across the counter from where he stood. "Just a bit. A group of the schoolchildren came in, they each checked out five books, and then I hosted a reading circle."

He raised a brow at that. "Reading circle?"

"It's one of our book clubs. They decide on the book and discuss amongst themselves, I just host and handle the check-outs." Belle leaned in closer, "Between you and me, I'm grateful that's all I have to do for this club, their choices are awful!"

"Enlighten me, Miss French."

"With the other clubs, I host and participate in the discussion. With this circle it's just been one bodice-ripper after another." She groused. "I suppose I should be happy that they're reading anything, and that they've chosen to use the library for their meetings, but I just can't get past their selections!"

Mr. Gold shared a remorseful laugh with her. "I take it they haven't run with your recommendations?"

Belle shrugged. "I ought to remove the romance section from the literature area all together. You know, from the look they gave me when I offered them something besides yet another story of a dashing rogue tamed by love, you'd think I was crazy. I might be the only one in town with an appreciation for Burns."

"Well, you and the only resident Scotsmen here, yes." Gold chided her. "Is this your way of reminding me to return _The Merry Muses?"_

She shook her head. "Not at all, I've already entered an extension for you."

"You did?"

"I've learned your habit, Mr. Gold." Belle thought on Burns, and wondered for a moment if the man would read a poem to her - it would be lovely to hear his accent touch the words. Her own voice slowed and grew deeper as a scene unfolded in her mind: Mr. Gold reading to her in the empty library, his burr defiantly loud in the space, enveloping her. "One week isn't long enough to get the full flavor of Burns. His poetry is meant to be savored."

Gold was always pulled in when Belle spoke of her favorite authors. She was passionate in her love of books, and when she spoke of Keats, Burns, of McCall-Smith and Cisneros, Belle to him seemed to grow sensual. Even now, he could see her cheeks and throat had grown heated speaking of poetry. She was so lovely, but she was not for him.

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "You talk about it like food."

Belle blinked, shaking off her thoughts of the man, and tried for a joke to cover her embarrassment. Really, she couldn't let herself get so carried away. "Trust me, if I could live off books, I would. All the nourishment and none of the fat."

"If wishes were horses, we all would ride." Gold remarked. "So, Miss French, what do you do with yourself when you're not at the library, feeding your mind?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Belle thought, reflecting on this week's schedule. "Well...when I'm not working at the library I try to pick up other work where I can. Lately I've been picking up shifts at Game of Thorns."

"Oh, the florist shop. I'm familiar. Do you like it?"

She shrugged, wondering why he was asking about this. "It's not too bad. A job's a job, and I like the customers who come in. The only bad thing about flowers is that they can wilt so quickly."

"I suppose that would depend on the flower."

Belle watched as Mr. Gold slipped the pocket square out of his suit and laid it on the counter between them. He folded, refolded and rolled the silk square until he presented it to her, the material resembling a perfect red rose. "Here, if you'll have it."

Belle accepted it from him, her hands cupping the silk to keep it from crumpling. The gift was a lovely surprise. "Why thank you."

Mr. Gold granted her a warm look as she took the silk. She was such a pleasure to him, a window into the life of the city that his notoriety forbade him. He knew the people's finances, their weaknesses, their _price._

But Belle? She had sensed the need for a greater sense of community and fought to bring such a place to the people. She was lovely, she was kind, and more, she was _loved_. Gold had seen that for himself. The children who hopped with excitement in line outside of the library, waiting for Midnight Story Circle; the patrons who greeted her so warmly both at the circulation desk and when they saw her on the street; the group of friends held tight from her schooldays.

Gold envied her all that, he supposed, but he had built himself into a monster for decades and it was too late to change that now. He didn't want to change it. Better a monster than a man.

They did not speak of his work during this visit, instead speaking of idle things, of each other and themselves, sharing a few chapters of their life story. Belle didn't mind, she always wanted to know more of her mysterious friend, and the price for that was a give and take: Mr. Gold would only answer one of her questions when she'd answered one of his.

All too soon, their time was up.

"I'm afraid I have to get going, Mr. Gold." She said with some regret.

Gold frowned. He'd keep her with him if he could.

The man came around the counter and walked her to the door. "Always a pleasure, Miss French."

Belle opened the door and gave him one last smile. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. I'll catch you later."

Gold quirked his lips in return and inclined his head as she stepped out of the shop. He watched as she crossed the street, trying and failing to dispel the tickling flutter in his chest. Lately it came to him with Miss French's visits and he refused to delve too deeply into why that might be.

____________________

Belle looked at Mr. Gold's handkerchief, still coiled into a rose. She'd taken his illusion a step further by tucking it into a tube vase and set it on the card table she had in the corner of her apartment. Rather than any floral scent, the silken rose smelled of the man: the scent of clean skin, of the shop where he spent so many hours, and a spiced note of his cologne.

The woman wasn't sure why she'd done it, cradling the silken rose all the way back to her apartment before returning to the stacks that afternoon. She just knew that looking at it made a smile cross her face, the folds of silk giving rise to thoughts of Mr. Gold, the man surrounded by his treasures, a clever smile on his face with warmth for her in his eyes.

Belle shivered.

She had already chosen Mr. Gold as her friend, deciding for herself that he was a man to know. He was interesting, clever, and despite his feigned annoyance with her chatter, she knew he enjoyed their time together.

There was something between them, Belle knew. She ignored the gossip about him but she could see for herself that he had made an exception for her in his life. She hated to think that he was lonely, but by the same token she enjoyed the knowledge that she alone was invited to watch his work, she alone could call Mr. Gold her friend.

Her friend, only ever met with in private, they were each other's best kept secret.

She didn't mind, since she had volunteered the agreement with him. It was amusing to hide in the back room of the shop and listen in as he traded barbs and strange innuendos with the mayor. Sometimes it was another barging into the shop, and Belle would make it behind the curtain just a moment before being seen - that added a thrill to their visits, the rush of almost being found out.

Belle smiled to herself.

Keeping their connection discreet was a small price to pay for what she had gained from the man in return. A source of humor, a sounding board for her plans at the library, a confidant in her harmless little schemes. It made her wonder what Mr. Gold could see in her, but he might appreciate her for similar reasons: in Belle he had a companion to discuss his work with, a helpful research assistant, a pleasant distraction from the decidedly unpleasant aspects of being landlord and cheif moneylender to the town.

So they each had their role to play. Belle was content enough with her friend for now, it was the future that concerned her.

____________________

Slowly, in their time together Gold opened himself up to Belle. She knew his favorite films and music, she knew his humor, he had told her of how he was raised in Scotland. That was not to say Gold was careless with what he told Miss French.

Carelessness was not something that Gold could afford.

Aside from stories of his young life in Scotland - running about causing neighborhood mayhem with his friends; his first puppy love on an older girl when he had hit the mature age of nine years old and thought to impress her with a handful of blooms pulled from his own flat's flower bed, dirt and all - Gold had not revealed any details of his personal past or the present business dealings that Miss French had been warned against.

The man had grown to enjoy her company far too much to risk losing her now, and he knew that she would end their friendship without a thought if the truth of the warnings were made plain to her.

But there, in the confines of Gold's shop, he was free to play for her attention. Despite his first warning that his work in the shop wouldn't entertain her, he had taken on the role of entertainer himself. The week before had been a rose folded from his pocket square. Belle had taken it with her, what she'd done with it was anyone's guess.

Today, Gold had taken to impressing her with a few card tricks after he'd found a deck in the back. Her eyes followed quick hands as he shuffled the cards, then fanned them out before her. Belle took one card and then replaced it in the deck and he continued shuffling, cutting the cards again and again on the counter. Gold held one card out to her and she smiled. "That's it!"

Gold flipped the card between his fingers, making it disappear and reappear. He was showing off and loving every minute of her attention. "The Queen of Hearts. That's fitting, in a way."

"Where'd you learn magic?" She watched as he spun her card in his hand, mesmerizing her.

"You pick things up as you go along." He said easily.

"Could you teach me?"

Gold looked up, quirking his lips. "And reveal all of my secrets? Miss French, you know better than that."

"Not all of them, just a few." She batted her lashes. "Please?"

"I...I'll think about it." He grumbled as he set the deck aside, sure that the woman could charm all his secrets away if she put her mind to it. He didn't mind teaching her since it would entice her to keep coming back to see him; it was just a bit of fun to pretend at being stubborn where she was concerned.

Belle sent him a smug grin, pleased with her little victory. "Thank you. So, have you terrorized any villagers lately?"

Mr. Gold outright laughed at that. "Why, yes, just the other day in actual fact. It was a loan agreement, the collateral being the client's firstborn."

Belle shook her head, chiding him. "You're losing your edge, Mr. Gold. If you pressed harder you might have gotten all his children."

He shrugged, nodding. "I'll prove I still have my fangs on the next deal. If you hear anyone crying about my having stolen their whole family tree, you only have yourself to blame."

Belle giggled, "You're awful!"

"That I am. Oh, I wanted to ask after any books you might have on Grecian jewelwork."

"Greek jewelry? Do you have something?"

Gold noted how her eyes brightened at the prospect, making a mental note of her interest. "Not yet. I will soon, the piece has to travel through a few different channels before it reaches me."

Belle thought back to the library, reviewing what she had on hand to offer. "I have several books about Greek history and culture, three language dictionaries and the Homeric literatures. I'll go through and see what else I can scare up for you."

"Thank you, Miss French. Your assistance is very much appreciated."

"My pleasure." Belle idly spun one of the globes he kept on the shelf nearest the counter, thinking of the far off places she'd longed to see when she was a girl and life seemed like such an adventure, before the struggle became so real. "Have you traveled a lot, Mr. Gold? Other than immigrating here, I mean."

Gold nodded. "Well, yes. I've seen a bit of the world. Europe is smaller than you might think, and it's easy to travel there. The U.K., of course, and then France, Germany, Italy, Portugal and Spain on the continent. I've been to Greece as well. This was all when I was younger, of course. I've stayed put for the past two decades."

"Why?"

The why of it all was a plain truth. He took a breath, forcing away rising memories. "I haven't anyone to travel with anymore."

Belle might have asked him who he'd traveled with in the past, why he was alone now, but there was something in his eyes that kept her silent. Mr. Gold's reasons were his own. Out of respect, she didn't press the issue, and instead asked him about what he'd seen in Portugal, if Paris was truly as beautiful as the movies made it seem, and if he preferred the food in Italy or Spain. Her chatter was a way to fill the silence, weave her insights into the stories of his past travels.

The man answered her questions, but all too soon, Miss French had to depart and return to the life waiting for her outside the walls of his shop. He watched as she strode down the street toward the library, and let himself imagine her at his side on a global vacation through Europe. For her, he would travel again, show her the world she clearly craved to explore.

Gold ticked his head to the side, banishing the thought. He returned to the counter and refused to let himself become distracted by any further thoughts of Miss French.


	6. Rumplestiltskin

Gold set the rusted cogs of a mistreated grandfather clock aside once he heard the tinkling of the bell at the front of the shop. He stepped past the curtain and over to the counter to greet his customer, but stopped short on recognizing the face under a mane of fresh russet curls.

"Miss French, you changed your hair."

Belle smiled, pleased that he had noticed. Marcus and Shane had been so oblivious to the change when she'd visited them that she'd wondered if dying her hair had even been worth the effort...but then again, most men were colorblind so she shouldn't have expected them to pick up on the new shade, stereotypes be damned.

"Ariel finally convinced me to go red. It's just a color rinse, I wanted to try something different." She told him, admiring her hair in the reflection of a standing mirror. Her usual chocolate hair shone with a distinct auburn cast now. Not a permanent change, but a nice change all the same.

"It's very striking, you're lovely as ever." Gold said, and his words were true. Her looks set her apart from any other woman in Storybrooke, to him the dye was only gilding the lily. He would find her alluring in any shade.

"Why thank you." Belle preened under his gaze. His compliments always left a lasting impression with her, a word from him could keep her smiling for days on end. "This was just for fun, I'll be back to my natural color soon enough."

"Natural is all well and good until you start to sport fifty shades of gray." He remarked, gesturing to his own hair.

Belle gasped, "You're into that?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh, don't!" Belle admonished him, realizing he'd only meant his hair color. She hoped he didn't ask after the blush that was flooding her cheeks. "Your gray adds character, makes you handsome. I've always thought you look distinguished, Mr. Gold."

Unaware that he may have piqued Belle's interest in bondage, Gold thanked her and shelved any passing thoughts he'd had about dying his hair to shave a few years off his appearance. Belle had just admitted to finding him attractive, so he wouldn't change a thing.

"Thank you, Miss French, though I think that compliment is owed more to my suits than my looks."

He had never seen himself as being particularly handsome. While comfortable enough with the face he had been graced with, the man still surrounded himself with fine things to heighten his image. Everyone had their own sense of vanity.

Belle shook her head, "No, no, no. It's the whole package. Here, come see what I see."

She lead him over to the mirror and stood beside him in the glass. There they were, he in his dark formal suit and she in her breezy dress and rose nail varnish; Gold thought they looked like the split half of two separate couples, thrown together and completely mismatched.

Belle shared this thought, but she was more amused than anything about their differences. Mr. Gold always seemed ready for business, the Storybrooke master of dealing, while she appeared ready to skip off shopping at the Sunshire mall.

How was it that they were so at odds on the surface but shared so many similarities in private?

"There, see? You're lovely yourself, Mr. Gold."

The man shook his head, shying away from the mirror and reclaiming his place behind the counter. He could entertain fantasies all day, but to see the proof of Belle at his side, how bubbly and vibrant she was compared to him, it was actually painful. Her compliments rang false, surely she was only being kind when he'd been self-depricating.

_Enough of this._

"Let's not get carried away, dearie. So, other than coming to show off how lovely you are, what else brought you here?"

"Was I that obvious?" Belle asked. "All right, Mr. Gold, I had actually come to ask you for a favor."

Gold raised a brow. "Favor?"

"Yes." Belle took a deep breath. She knew she could convince the man, it all came down to how she was going to do it. He was too clever to be flattered or tricked into agreeing, her best bet was to be honest with him.

"There's a new program I want to start, live readings for the children on Saturday nights. I wrote a script for this weekend, but I can't read for two main characters." She eyed him meaningfully before going on, "Not when one of the characters is a man and holds a certain _unique_ presence. So I was thinking..."

Gold understood at once. "You want me to read to children with you? Me. Miss French, I had thought you were well-versed in the tales of my wrath and depravity."

He felt a deep sense of relief within to know that Miss French only wanted his help with the reading. Had she come to him wanting a favor of money, he would have felt used in a way, as if her entire bid for their friendship had been a ruse toward financial gain.

Still, though, he wasn't the best choice for this and Belle had to have known that before she even came into his shop.

"You are not what people think, and you can prove it by doing this." Belle's eyes became earnest. "Please, Mr. Gold?"

"You seem to think I want them to see past the rumors."

"You don't?"

"No."

Belle's face fell into disappointment, and Gold found himself rushing to recover her smile. "But it would be unexpected, and I do love to keep the people here unbalanced...all right. I'll do it."

"You will?" She smiled and reached across the counter, resting her hand over his as was her friendly habit.

"For you, yes."

"This will be fun, you'll see."

"Miss French, you will come to regret this." Gold told her, his voice flat with certainty.

"How?"

The man spread his arms, planting his palms on the counter and leaning toward her. "I'm doing you a favor. There will come a day when I decide that you owe me a favor in return."

Belle narrowed her eyes. "I don't like the sound of that."

"No one ever does." Gold gave her a sly smile. "So, I'll read for you. And you'll grant me a favor somewhere down the line. Deal?"

The man extended his hand out to her, letting it hover in the space between them. Belle held his gaze with her own, refusing to let him scare her with his theatrics.

It was clear that he expected her to take back her request, to find someone else to read her script rather than owe him anything.

But Mr. Gold was not the only one to thrive on doing the unexpected.

Belle took his hand, "Deal."

______________________________

Several days later, Gold could be found in the library, waiting for showtime.

The man had agreed to read Belle's story written for the children, taking on the lines of a demon who begins the tale as a mad villain and ends as a redeemed friend to the princess, played by none other than Belle herself.

The children's area of the library was bright and colorful with cheery displays and READ posters on the walls; the stage Gold found himself on was small, but adapted to their purpose for tonight. It had been adorned with fake flowers, a backdrop of a forest and a castle set the scene for their young audience. The backdrop would change twice more before the end of Belle's tale: once to a dark, forbidding cave where his character lamented his loneliness, and then again to a bright throne hall within the palace.

Once the show started, Belle was to wear a glittery costume gown over her day clothes, complete with a matching plastic tiara she'd already secured in her hair. The costume had been rented from a party store, and Belle had even paid extra for the black cape that Gold would secure over his shoulders, though he'd refused to put on any of the makeup that had come along with the costume.

A man had to draw the line somewhere.

It wasn't like her to waste money on costumes, but the initial performance was important to keep the program going. With Sydney Glass coming tonight to observe, she had to make an impression.

Nervous, Belle reviewed her script again, pacing back and forth before Gold, repeating the opening dialogue under her breath.

"O, our kingdom is so peaceful and true - my child shall someday take the crown and rule toward a fair future...O, our kingdom is so peaceful and true..."

She and Mr. Gold were not alone in the library. Mrs. Mullins was at the front, ready to hand out little bags of popcorn and cups of juice to the audience as they filed in. The older woman had been unhappy to learn that the town monster would be involved with the play, and had snapped at them both, convinced that Gold would ruin the production for his own petty pleasure.

While Belle had tried to reassure the senior librarian, Gold had been happy to let her think he'd manipulated his way into the program, sniping at her every time Belle moved out of earshot.

"Miss French, I think you have woefully miscast this character. I'm not even German."

Belle turned to him. "I think the children will forgive a misplaced accent if your performance is up to par." She returned easily, baiting him.

"You doubt it will be?"

Her expression was falsely sympathetic as she came closer. "I don't know. I mean, you're not a public speaker and a bit of stage fright is understandable. It's all right if you're afraid of the children-"

He reared up and snatched the script out of her hand, "Give me that."

Belle smiled as he paged through her story, his eyes skimming through the lines. He retook his seat and she went on to help Mrs. Mullins bring in more chairs and arrange the snack table.

Gold remained, tapping his cane on the floor while he read.

Miss French's casting of him as a misunderstood villain was not lost on Gold. She thought to show him as worthy of sympathy, she wanted the town to see him as more than a cunning landlord and dealer.

_She is too good for this world._

He watched as she returned from the front and moved up the stage. Belle had gone to special pains to keep her "mystery guest reader" a secret from the audience, rigging a curtain intended to hide him from both the parents and the children as they filed in through the doors.

"This is a nice change," Gold had remarked as Belle explained her plan for his reveal. "Me hiding behind a curtain while you deal with the people up front."

Belle checked the rig pull one last time before coming down from the ladder, placing her hand in his to keep her balance. "Our agreement was the inspiration for this, actually." Belle stood at the front of the tiny stage, explaining her vision to him. "It'll be perfect. Right as your character enters the story, I'll pull the rope and there you are. Then you just start reciting your part."

"And be ready for the riots that ensue from the parents, desperate to protect their young from the monster on stage."

"Oh, don't start." Belle groused.

"I meant the character. He nearly steals your baby." Gold gestured to the script. "But they won't be happy with you for bringing me in on this either, Miss French."

"No, after tonight they'll see you as you really are."

"You may not enjoy that."

"Mr. Gold, you're a businessman, not a monster! I swear, you've started to believe the gossip yourself." Belle laughed.

Gold had sighed lightly at that, her faith in him. He couldn't understand why she defended him when she had been warned by so many, he himself had even given her fair warning that there was truth to the rumors. Belle had ignored his words, insisting on their friendship and he hadn't the strength to send her away.

He would have gone on arguing with her, but Belle hurriedly hid him behind the curtain as the first children came through the doors.

Gold stood patiently, pulling on his cape and hood, listening as more and more people came in, their happy chatter filling the air along with the scent of buttery popcorn from the snack table. He could pick out her voice in the din, cheery and excited, thanking everyone for showing up, welcoming them inside, guiding them to their seats. She had put in so much effort with the library programs, it had been impossible for him to refuse her this favor.

He knew what she wanted to happen tonight. For her to pull away the curtain in the big reveal, the shock value of the fearsome Mr. Gold brought in to read a story for the town's children. Her hope for his acceptance and then, the hope that they could enjoy their friendship in public without censure.

Lovely woman, but naive to think she could change anything with one child's play.

Regardless of all that, he had given his promise to perform the reading of _The Princess Meets Rumplestiltskin_ to the best of his ability. Listening to Belle greet people as they came in, he wanted to surpass even her hopes for his performance.

Rumplestiltskin. An impish demon determined to trick a princess into giving him her child, all because he was so very lonely and only wanted the child for company. Upon learning of this, the fair princess says his name and invites him to live with her in the castle, where they all live happily ever after in friendship and peace.

Gold rolled his eyes. _Fairy tale._

He knew all too well that there was no happy ending for someone like him. He'd had it all once, but just as quickly it had been torn out of his life. He wouldn't have a second chance.

He would perform the reading, have a bit of fun in playing a clever monster. It would surprise the town and earn him a favor from her in future, though he hadn't any true intention to collect. He only needed her to believe it of him.

There was a fearsome reputation to uphold.

It was all he had.

______________________________

The play lasted over an hour, but to them it passed in a flash. Actors often remarked on the rush of performance, losing themselves in the fun of taking on a character.

Neither Gold nor Belle had any acting experience to speak of, this little play performed before the children and parents of Storybrooke was their Broadway.

Gold watched from behind the curtain as "princess" Belle spoke of her fair kingdom, the lands that would fall to her beautiful daughter - a rubber baby doll swathed in a pink bath towel. He watched as she performed for their audience, pouring herself into the role. Her eyes were bright, her smile as cheery as he'd ever seen it - she desperately wanted this program to go on, it was clear in her every word and gesture.

"O! But I hear something - someone has been watching us from the woods! Who is that, there? Show yourself!"

Gold watched as Belle reached for the rope and gave it a quick tug, the curtain rising up to reveal him to the audience. But for a small handful, the children had no idea of who he was, but the reaction from the adults in their audience was palpable. A wave of surprised murmurs passed through the library, he and Belle paused to let it die down before he spoke to the princess who'd discovered his hiding spot.

"Well, well, well, it seems you've found me out, dearie!" He trilled.

No one had ever seen this side of him, and if Belle's wide eyes were anything to go by, then none in Storybrooke had even thought him capable of such playfulness.

Well.

He'd been a father.

"I - And who are you to spy on us?" The princess asked of him.

Gold stepped forward, twirling his cane, the look on his face somewhat snide and predatory. Rumplestiltskin was lonely, true, but wary of the royalty and didn't take kindly to disrespect. "Me? I am a master of powerful magic, and not to be challenged!" He thundered his voice and ended with a mad giggle, relishing Belle's expression as he did so. "Who are you to frolic in _my_ woods?"

"I am the princess of this realm. You know this by my crown," she said, pointing to the tiara atop her head. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard your song." Gold said idly. Here he took a playing card and spun it in his hand, delighting as the children gasped at the sight of Rumplestiltskin's magic. "And now I'd like to make a deal."

A soft resigned murmur from the adults rolled through the audience. Naturally Mr. Gold would be dealing. Even in character, he was ever searching for an agreement that would favor him.

Belle furrowed her brows. "A deal?"

Gold giggled again. "Yes, my dearie, dear, a deal! Tell me, princess, you do love Avonlea, do you not?"

"Of course. My kingdom is the fairest the world has ever known. My daughter will bloom here and rule when her time comes."

Gold, or rather, Rumplestiltskin rubbed his hands together greedily. "I can see the future, one of my many great powers." Here he touched his fingers to his temples. "A great sorrow will befall the whole of Avonlea, and forever plunge the land into darkness."

"No! Tell me, what can be done to save my kingdom?"

"Why, a deal with me, of course!"

Belle looked at him skeptically. "What deal?"

Gold twirled his cane again, smiling nastily at her from under the broad hood of his cape. "If you can guess my name, I shall save your kingdom. However if you cannot say my name, then the price to save your kingdom is that babe you hold so dear."

The children gasped, and Belle had reached to drop the main curtain so the backdrop could be changed, and then she hurried off the stage so that Gold could recite Rumplestiltskin's short monologue lamenting his loneliness.

Gold took his chair and began to recite, "Woe is me! I am Rumplestiltskin, master of magic - magic can do many things, but it cannot make a friend for me. Someone to talk to, to laugh with! There is no one, I am alone in this world while the royalty and townsfolk alike have friend and family to hold them close. No matter. I shall take the princess's baby and have a friend of my very own, a friend for life!"

Unbeknownst to the cackling Rumplestilskin, the princess had followed him to his cave and eavesdropped on him. She knew what troubled him, and moved to extend her hand in friendship.

"Rumplestiltskin."

Gold hurriedly stood from his chair to face Belle. "You followed me! You said my name! Fine, then, you tricked me without magic and your kingdom shall be safe. Go now, be gone!"

The princess, while sweet of face and tender of heart, had a spine of steel and did not back down from the hissing demon. "No, Rumplestiltskin, I will not go. I know you are lonely, and perhaps that is why you act in cruelty before courtesy. You forgot kindness in all your lonely days. No more of that, come with me! I would have you join me in the castle."

"You would have me in with your people?"

"Yes. Not just to save the kingdom and not just for your magic - it is because a thing must be loved before it can learn to love again. Please, try again, with me."

Here Belle extended her hand out to him, the offer clear to the audience. Rumplestiltskin reached to take her hand into his, speechless for the first time in the course of the play.

Again, the curtain fell over them and the backdrop shifted for the last time, to the colorful castle interior. The ending scene showed the princess and Rumplestilskin standing side by side, the babe set between them in a semblance of family.

Belle took Mr. Gold's hand and they bowed to the applause of over fifty adults and twice as many excited children. The final curtain fell, and Belle wasted no time in pulling off the costume gown and rushing out to find Sydney so she could give her comments on the article he would include in the next issue of The Daily Mirror.

Feeling an ache in his leg, Gold took his time in descending the stage, proud of Miss French's accomplishment but in no hurry to attempt the stairs or the crowd.

_Let her have her moment._

Belle gulped at a water bottle, trying to cool off. She was tired, she was sweating, she was sure her throat would be sore in the morning - and she felt amazing! More people than she'd anticipated had shown up for the play, and she was sure she could thank Mary Margaret for that. Likely the teacher had promised a few extra credit points to those students who attended.

Mary was standing near the side of the stage, and waved to Belle, clearly proud of her. Ruby, Ariel, Marcus, Jasmine and Shane were scattered throughout the library as well, big smiles on their faces.

It had been a success, and Belle felt like she could fly.

She spoke to Sydney, whose own daughter had been smiling all throughout the performance. He assured her of a positive article in the paper, thanking her for the effort in opening the library and making it more than a place of books, but a place of community.

Belle saw him off, thanking him again for the write-up. She turned, looking for Mr. Gold.

_Where is my co-star...?_

She wanted to bring him forward, reintroduce him not as landlord and dealer, but as her friend.

Belle saw the man out of the corner of her eye, his suit as black as the costume cape he'd worn as Rumplestiltskin. But before she could step over to him, Belle saw their mayor approach Mr. Gold and she braced for the library to erupt into yet another of their heated arguments.

Instead, though...Regina was smiling with him, briefly they even held hands. They stood so close, their voices low as he said something that had them both laughing. It was the happiest she'd ever seen Mr. Gold outside of her company and a wave of something like jealousy swept over her.

Yesterday they had spent fifteen straight minutes insulting each other while Belle had hidden in the back room of the shop, yet now they were together like the dearest of friends. What had changed between tonight and the day before?

Mr. Gold's smile grew even warmer as young Henry came up to them, and he playfully ruffled the boy's hair. Regina said something and they all broke into a new round of quieted laughter. Belle noticed that Henry stayed close to Mr. Gold's side.

They looked like a family.

"Belle, you can't have Mr. Gold here again."

Belle broke her attention away from the man in question to find Rachael Carter and three other parents, all of them wearing expressions ranging from concerned to genuinely upset.

"Sorry, what?"

"It's nothing against you." Rachael said, trying to reassure her. "Whatever _that man_ did to make you include him in this, whatever game he's playing just to get under the mayor's skin...but you have to know that if he's a part of this then fewer and fewer people are going to show up until the whole place is empty."

Belle raised her brows. "Why?"

"Why?" Weston Bule, a father of triplet girls jokingly referred to was the weird sisters stepped to her. "He raised the rent at EastGate for a start!"

Belle rolled her eyes. She knew all about the rent hike. She'd been hidden behind the shop curtain while Gold had had to explain to several irate tenants that the rent increase had come from the renovations on the building after he'd bought it from the previous owner who'd let it go neglected for years.

Now, though...

No one could expect to pay the same rent rate on an upgraded apartment, not to mention that just such a provision had been in the fine print of every single lease agreement signed by the occupants. An irritating reality, but completely legal and in the tenants' best interest.

Deborah Cole crossed her arms. "He commandeered my husband's tow truck when he ran late on his payments!"

Belle held her tongue, sure she'd snap off an insult in the face of that admission.

"Gold refused to back my tourist venture," Darren cut in. "He said I needed a better plan, when really we know it's just because he hates my family."

Yes, and the fact that Darren Nigel was a high school drop out with heavy debts and no mind for business had nothing to do with it, Belle was sure.

"I really don't think-"

Rachael, clearly the ringleader of this lynch mob, glared at Belle. "Just make it clear to him, Belle. I have enough stress in my life because of that man, I'll be damned if I bring my kids anywhere near him. If you want to keep this program, then Gold has to go."

Belle glared right back at them all, each one of them just as petty as the rest of the town when it came to Mr. Gold, blaming him for their own misfortunes. He was just trying to practice good business and here they were, with nothing but excuses on their side.

She had been right about Mr. Gold. She knew it.

But being right about her friend wouldn't protect her program.

Rachael Carter was head of the PTA. It wouldn't take much to rally her sheep troops and deter them away from the live readings. Many of the other parents in the audience had been unhappy to see Mr. Gold's involvement, Rachael was simply the one brave enough to challenge Belle's casting.

Without an audience, her program could be over before it began. She couldn't let that happen.

Belle turned her back on the group and sought Mr. Gold. Her eyes fell on him, he and the mayor being the only two clad entirely in fine black clothing, he in his suit and she in a chic dress. This was not the best moment for it, but Belle couldn't help admiring the woman for her style.

The mayor was readying to leave, her purse secured over her shoulder and her keys in hand. She and Mr. Gold had finished whatever discussion they'd started, though Henry seemed reluctant to part from the man. Mr. Gold had a hand on the boy's shoulder, kneeling to his eye level. As Belle came closer she could pick up the last piece of their conversation.

"-to be good for your mother."

Henry nodded at his instruction. "I will, Mr. Gold. Promise."

"Good lad. On, now, off with you both." Gold gave the boy a nudge toward his mother, waving to them fondly. Regina shared a last look with Gold before she guided her son toward the library's exit.

Belle cleared her throat. "Mr. Gold."

He turned around, smiling anew. "Ah, Miss French. This wasn't half the trial I thought it'd be. This was actually fun, throwing back to a theater class I took in early university."

"Mr. Gold-"

"Will it be the same time next week, then?"

Belle swallowed, wishing he had hated tonight, wishing he didn't look so damn happy.

_This program has to go on._

"I'm afraid there won't be a next time."

Gold's face fell into confusion. "You're stopping the plays?"

"No. I just...most of the parents won't bring their children back if you're a part of them." Belle felt dread claw through her as she said the words. To protect her program, she had to shun her friend. Inside, the woman was roaring against how unfair life could be here in Storybrooke.

"Ah." Understanding took hold in his eyes. "So you're not stopping the plays, you're just stopping them with me."

"Please, it's not my choice, but so many of the parents will refuse to let their children come back if you read again."

Gold understood the position that Belle was in; if the library lost its patronage then it's doors would close, all of the books and equipment would be sold off and dispersed, and the floor space itself would be absorbed into the community center.

Belle's dream would end. Even before he knew her, he had played a part in bringing this place to life. He would protect it for her, even if it called for his dismissal.

Really, he needed to put an end to this new connection he had with her. She was a distraction, a bright, burdensome little pleasure that had no place in his life.

"I recall warning you that something like this would happen."

The cold reminder lanced through her. "I know you did." Belle shook her head, so angry at being forced into this position. "I just didn't think...I wanted to prove they've been wrong about you."

"I also recall warning you I have my reputation for a reason."

A dark look came over Gold's face as he glanced over to a group of parents who were hovering near the door, their discreet glances toward Belle telling him all he needed to know.

"I just wanted them to see you like I see you." The words were a feeble defense, but Belle knew he was right. This had been a disaster in the making, she never should have asked him for this.

Now the town was sure to shun him anew and it was her fault. She did this.

"I understand. If given enough time I fear you'll come to see me as they do instead." Gold gave her an odd little smile. It was almost sad. "It was a noble effort, Miss French. One I won't forget."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else she could say.

He reached to her, touching her arm. Belle wished he would hold her hand the way he'd held the mayor's. "No. Save your sorry. It was so good of you to try. I would rather you not lose any ground here, so I'll just say good night."

Belle watched unhappily as Mr. Gold turned, heading toward the library doors.

The man stepped out into the night, alone and avoided.


	7. Truth

Clearing his throat and wincing for what must have been the tenth time that morning, Mr. Gold moved about his shop as quick as he could. The exercise his voice had gotten the night before had done his throat no favors. He hadn't played with his voice in years, not since his own nightly performances, years ago now. The high-pitched trilling, speaking his neglected Gaelic, the hissing and growling...it had all made for a sore throat that only a gallon of honeyed tea could soothe.

Added to that, his leg had kept him restless through the night. Yes, his leg, not the sting of Miss French's dismissal of him from her latest pet project at the library. No. Of course not. Well, maybe. But not really.

Damn it.

Yes, he had warned her that their audience would be unhappy with his involvement, but halfway through their performance he had hoped to be proven wrong. That perhaps they might...but, no. He'd no sooner finished seeing off Regina and Henry for the night before Miss French approached him and brought a heavy dose of reality with her.

It wasn't her fault. The woman had recruited him because she could not read for the male role and for the mystery his accent could add to her Rumplestiltskin. He had agreed because it would make her happy, and she had been right until the bitter gaggle came and bullied her into barring him.

Gold doubted anyone would fault their performance, but it clearly hadn't been enough. The people of Storybrooke would keep him in the role he fit best, as landlord, lawyer and dealer.

So, it was back to business.

Gold clicked his teeth together and looked over the ledger he kept for his rental properties. It was collection day and he couldn't wait to hear the excuses this time around.

He stretched his leg and decided the collections could wait until well after lunch.

Once the shop was dusted and inventoried, after all of his own bills were paid and his annual physical scheduled, he settled in to nosh on lunch and skim over the The Daily Mirror - a bit pointless, since he knew nearly all that went on in town, but it was a comforting Sunday routine.

_Live Reading Brings Fairy Tales To Life_

_The newly opened Storybrooke Library is set to host small live action performances of classic stories for the children of the town. The first live performance was hosted this past Saturday night by librarians Amy Mullins and Belle French, with French having performed an original script written for..._

Gold set the paper aside after finding no mention of his name. Good. Sydney had done as he'd asked. His involvement had been left off the record, and so would fade from the memory of the town. In time the people would forget but Belle never would.

He was satisfied with that.

Let Rachael Carter and her sheep enjoy this petulant victory over him, that he wasn't to read for the children again. True, taking on the mantle of Rumplestilskin had been more fun than he'd expected, but it was no great loss. He had plenty of other pleasantries to distract him.

Causing a bit of expensive bad luck against Mrs. Carter, for one. Introducing a bag of sugar cubes into the gas tank of her new car would make a nice start.

_Mmm, but it's a Mercedes, and I'd hate to mistreat something so beautiful. And speaking of beauty..._

Gold opened a pouch and spread the gemstones within over the counter before him. They were rough cuts, unpolished. To the untrained eye this was just a scatter of colorful pebbles, but Gold knew what he had.

A few blue topaz, a handful of citrine and rubies, three emeralds, a sapphire, a diamond. All of them small, but with the right care they would outshine stones twice their size.

He had plans for the gems. Some would find their way into restored artifacts, while others-

"Mr. Gold?"

Gold hurriedly swept the stones back into the pouch and then tucked it under the counter just as Miss French stepped across the threshold. The shop wasn't open to customers on Sundays but she must've seen him from outside.

He looked her over as she came closer. A wrap dress of pale pink hugged her petite frame, a perfect match to the gloss slicked over her lips. At once his shop was brighter for her presence, but no smile graced her face. Belle came to stand before him, her expression too earnest for a Sunday morning.

He only ever wanted to see her as her usual bubbly self. Seeing how upset she had been the night before had been more than enough.

"Miss French."

She rested her hands on the counter. "I came to see if you were all right."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Hmm?"

"After last night." She went on. "I wanted to apologize again, and see if...if _we_ were all right."

Gold understood, then. She thought he was upset with her. Miss French wasn't to blame...of course, it might have been nice to know she'd defended him, but he knew that hadn't been the case.

She'd done as she was told without a word of protest.

He shrugged, "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine. Last night was my fault. I should have told them no, that I could have who I wanted-"

"And let them drive away your audience, ending the program and soon after, the library? Even I can say that I am too high a price just to show up the PTA." Gold shook his head, "I put too much into seeing the project greenlit to let it close within the year."

Belle furrowed her brow at that. "What do you mean?"

"Who do you think got the project approved? Where did you think the sudden funding came from?"

Mr. Gold had been content to let everyone think that the library and community center had been brought to fruition thanks to the city council and public donations, but there was no harm in telling her now. Some truth might be good for them both.

For her part, Belle felt shell-shocked. The zoning permits, renovation of the building, the new construction, the labor and equipment all totaled over half a million dollars, and those were just the base costs. She knew that there had to be hundreds of other expenses that added to the total. "Why would you do that?"

Gold shrugged. "If I'm being honest, I did it to annoy Regina."

"You hate her that much?"

" _Hate_ Regina?" Mr. Gold shook his head. "No, never that."

"But then why-?"

"My reasons are exactly that." He cut her off, his voice soft but not without an undercurrent of steel. The man was warning her as gently as he could. Belle had to remember that while she considered him her friend, Mr. Gold was still an intensely private man. It might have cost him just to reveal that much to her.

"I'm sorry." She said, and she was sorry. She didn't want to make him more uncomfortable than she already had.

"Don't apologize to me, Miss French. I don't need you to remind me of how the people here can be. You think I would blame you? No, you were forced into the position of choosing, I could see that. I knew it would happen before you did."

"Mr. Gold-"

But he was done discussing this, his position in the town, the part he'd played in the library's opening, his relationship to their mayor, all of it. He placed Belle above all others, but he couldn't be with her now. He needed space, to be alone in his element.

"I have rents to collect, Miss French."

It was a delicate dismissal, the reminder of the business he had for the day. Belle understood, as she had her own work to be getting on with, but she had to know, "Are we friends again?"

Mr. Gold raised a brow and reached across the counter and laid his hand over hers as she had done to him so many times in their brief past. "Miss French, I wasn't aware we'd ever stopped."

Belle smiled, relief clear in her eyes. She rolled her hand beneath his and laced their fingers. They looked at each other in silence, a fond moment, but Gold could not let this go on.

"Off you go now, girl. I have people to shake down and cheat, families to ruin. And you have another script to write and another co-star to find."

Belle nodded as he released her hand so that he could come around the counter and lead her to the shop door. "I do. I'm thinking Cinderella. Ashley said she might help."

"Ashley Boyd?" He asked. Belle nodded again and he pictured the petite blonde in a glittery blue costume dress and tiara. "She does have a likeness to the cartoon."

"I thought so too."

Belle opened the door, ready to leave, but then stopped on the threshold and turned back to him. "Mr. Gold, I never thanked you for coming to perform with me." He said nothing, so she went on, "Thank you. Your performance was wonderful, I think everyone could agree on that. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Then perhaps we must work to know each other better, Miss French. And thank you. It was more fun than I'd expected it would be, though all that voice work has cost me today."

Belle nodded. "I'm right there with you, I ate a bag of cherry Halls when I woke up this morning. I'll let you get back to your day, Mr. Gold. Goodbye."

He nodded, somehow feeling more settled after her visit. "Good day, Miss French."

______________________________

Belle left Mr. Gold's shop feeling only a little better for having spoken to him and apologized; it still hung over her, how easily she'd given in to the vague threats of a handful of his bitter clients. She hadn't slept all night, her mind spinning off a hundred other ways that she could have handled the situation, from politely insisting that she would cast her plays as she saw fit all the way to a screaming defense of her friend.

Well, it was too late to change things now. She couldn't take back what she had done, and even if she ignored the town censure and invited him back, Mr. Gold would refuse.

Pity, that. He'd been brilliant on her little stage, surprising everyone with the life he'd given to the role.

At least Mr. Gold had eased her mind somewhat, promising he wasn't upset with her for dismissing him. He'd seemed as aloof as ever, playing at indifference, but she'd seen the energy in him the night before during their performance, and she'd seen the true disappointment and the spark of anger in his eyes when she'd dismissed him.

Belle kicked a rock out of her way as she walked down a few blocks, heading toward Game of Thorns to pick up the evening shift. She needed the money since she was still only part-time at the library, and she didn't mind the bought of sneezing she was always in for when she took to working with flowers.

"Hey Belle, wait up!"

She turned around and felt her pulse quicken when she saw Shane approach. She had known him since high school, he had only grown more handsome over the years, more charismatic. Both she and Ruby had briefly dated him and he remained close to them both, still a ladies man at heart despite the changes he'd gone through over the years.

"Shane, what're you doing?"

He fell into step with her, offering his arm and smiling when Belle put her hand into the crook of his elbow. It was too easy to mistake them for a couple, particularly as he wore a pale pink dress shirt beneath his charcoal suit, a near perfect match to her dress. "Are you working the flower shop any time soon?"

"Yes, I'm actually heading up there now."

"Good. I need to make an order."

Belle raised a brow. It was a rare thing that she would make a sale before the start of a shift. "Big or small?"

"Small, sorry. I just need a handful of small bouquets for my place." He said. His place was actually a small jewelry store that his family had opened years ago, and he liked to decorate it with seasonal flowers. It was no secret that the florist shop was struggling; Belle suspected that he only placed his orders there to help the shop, to help her.

"What were you thinking?"

"I don't know, maybe carnations or daisies? Something bright always looks nice in the store."

Belle stepped into the shop and greeted Alan, one of the three other employees of Game of Thorns. Off his frustrated look to her, she already knew that her father had either screwed something up or not shown up for work at all.

These days neither option would surprise her.

Shane stepped in behind her. "Well, we have plenty of pink, yellow and white daisies." She told him, checking the inventory book.

A few bouquets of daisies wasn't much of a sale but every bit count. The shop had been on the decline for years and Belle had picked up a few pearls of wisdom from her time with Mr. Gold, the first and foremost being that no small company had ever done so well that it could afford to turn away business.

Shane was both a regular customer and very close to her, she couldn't refuse him even though his small orders were almost more trouble than they were worth.

"I'll do three bouquets with a mix of colors. Send me the invoice?" He asked, hurriedly checking his watch.

Belle smiled, taking in the picture he made. A handsome devil, a charismatic flirt and a stable, employed man she had a history with. She couldn't help thinking of him sometimes, of how things might have been different. But that was then, when they'd barely been out of their teens - they were both adults now, and everything had changed.

"I'll have them delivered tomorrow morning."

Shane reached across the counter and took her hand into both of his. "Belle, you are the best." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to get back to the store. Thank you."

Blushing enough to match her dress, Belle waved as he began to move toward the door. "No problem. I'll catch you later."

"Want to grab lunch later this week?" He asked once he reached the door.

"You buying?" She asked, raising a brow.

He scowled in mock offense. "What do you take me for? Of course I'll pay, so long as you only order table crackers and half a cup of lukewarm tap water."

"Careful, you might spoil me."

Shane flashed her a smile. "Later, babe."

Belle waved him off and refocused herself, entering his order and then putting an apron on over her dress so she could get on with her shift.

______________________________

"I don't have your money, Gold."

Mr. Gold grit his teeth at the snarled words, and wondered again why he put up with this damn town. He could well afford to start over in another place, but the albatross chained around his neck kept him anchored to Storybrooke. It seemed his eternal punishment was to spend the rest of his days forced to deal with surly, unreliable clients.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, wanting to keep his temper this month, but it was a damn hard struggle. Roger June could rival Gold in his bad attitude and frightening reputation, though June was better known for his violence than his cunning. He was little more than a thug, really, but he was a thug that had signed a contract.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Gold said evenly. "However when you signed your lease you signed your understanding of the penalties for repeated nonpayment."

June scowled at Gold, clenching his fingers into two meaty fists that could take the other man apart. He thought about it every time Gold came around to collect the rent, whether he had the money or not. He was bigger than Gold, stronger, not to mention about twenty years younger and, he was willing to bet, it wouldn't be any trouble to take him out.

"Look, work's been slow. The economy, right? I can't be the only one who needs a break on the rent."

"Yes, the economy. Interesting how the economy prevents you from paying your bills but it didn't prevent you from gambling at The Rabbit Hole the other night." Gold remarked, growing bored with these excuses. He was sick of it, these people who came to him, so desperate, but who then reneged on their deal when he came for what he was owed.

"Hey, what I do with my money-"

"What money are you referring to, exactly? The money you still owe me on the loan you needed to fix up your truck or the money you've owed for the rent on this flat since the renovation? Because it all concerns me, Mr. June." Gold's voice had grown cold in listing out the man's debts to him.

"I told you work was slowing down. If you just give me more time I know I can pay it all back." June reasoned. Yes, the work at the docks was slow, but he had a side venture that could pay out if he got creative with the product.

"You're out of time, Mr. June." Gold hissed. "I've been as lenient as I can but the contracts on your loan and lease were clear."

"No! You can't!"

"I can. I am well within my rights to evict."

"You old bastard!" June lunged forward, but Gold was ready. It was not often that he was pushed to this, but he had long ago learned the need for self-defense. Anyone in his position would have been smart to learn how to deal with these kinds of people in the only language they could understand - force.

Gold twisted out of the larger man's reach and struck the back of his head with the handle of his cane. Aside from the support he needed for his injured leg, the cane served as a surprise weapon when he needed it.

June fell on the ground and rolled to get back up, but Gold was there, pinning him to the ground with the cane at his throat.

"I don't mind telling you that I've had my fill of you people, all of you, so desperate and so careless that no bank will touch you, coming into my shop to beg for loans and favors and not one of you ever bothers to read the fine print or even grasp the concept of repayment." Gold pressed his cane against him just that much harder, relishing the other man's pain. "Now, I will get what you owe me, one way or another."

"I told you I don't have the money!" June shouted at him.

"Yes, and we both know who does, don't we?"

June's eyes widened a fraction, telling Gold without words just who June had lost all his money to. "He cheated me out of-"

"Don't blame it on him." Gold interrupted. "You chose to gamble away the rent."

"Look, I don't have the money, but...but, maybe something else?" June suggested, grasping at ideas.

Gold raised a brow. Just what did this idiot think he would accept in place of money?

"What?"

"Oxy." June struggled to say. "I have oxy."

"You're honestly trying to offer me drugs?" At once, he understood the man's line of thinking in the deal - he would offer the painkillers in the hopes that Gold would become addicted, and thus come to depend on June as a source. He thought to turn the tables with a bottle of pills.

No. Gold had been down that road once before and he'd fought his way back to sanity, but he shook off those memories of desperation, refocusing on his struggling client.

Mr. Gold said nothing, sure his expression perfectly conveyed his distaste.

June made another grasp at the air. "One of the girls from the Rabbit Hole, or that waitress Ruby, you know her. I've been seeing her, she could settle things between us."

Gold barked out a laugh, surprising himself. "You really are a piece of work." He brought his foot down hard on June's hand, breaking his thumb. "In one week, I'm coming for my money. All of it. And you won't see Miss Lucas again."

Tears streaming down his face, June nodded, speaking through clenched teeth. "All right."

"No. You won't see Miss Lucas again. Say it."

"I won't see her again. I'll call her tonight and break things off."

"Yes, you do that and be sure to tell her why." Gold turned to the door. "One week. If you don't have everything you owe me by then, you're done. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mr. Gold."

Gold stepped out of June's apartment and then looked down at his list, sighing heavily.

There were seven more tenants to visit that day.

______________________________

Hours later Gold unlocked his front door and stepped inside, sighing lightly as he locked the door behind him. Crossing the lower level of his house, he entered the kitchen and began preparing tea for one. Again.

It was part of his evening tradition, a way to unwind. Tea with whatever he could throw together for his dinner, paired with a book or some mindless television.

He stared down at the stove, watching tiny bubbles form in the water, but then changed his mind, suddenly in the mood for something stronger. Gold killed the heat and poured the water down the sink, then made his way into the living room where he kept liquor and wine in a lovely glass cabinet.

There were only three days a year where he drank to get drunk, but the urge to do so was calling to him this night. He just wanted to forget for awhile, that was all, a short reprieve from this life he'd made for himself.

He poured a measure of whiskey over ice and settled back on his sofa with a content sigh, his thoughts moving on from the day's frustration to a figure worlds more pleasing, Miss French. The woman was never far from his thoughts, and he often called on the image of her face or a joke she'd told him when he needed to focus on something that could lift his mood.

It was happening more and more often, she was becoming as much a feature in his fevered daydreams as she was a welcome visitor to his shop in true life. What had started as the occasional pleasant exchange over books had somehow evolved into a genuine friendship heavy with flirtation, and he was self-aware enough to know he was already half in love with the charming woman.

She came to him in his fantasies as a lover, but when he would wake the realities separating them would come crashing in.

Gold was no idiot. Belle may flirt a bit with him but he'd seen her flirt with others before as well so he could not fool himself into thinking that she treated him with any unique care. She was a naturally affectionate woman, and so witty. Soon enough she would want to settle down, and some lucky bastard would snap her up and give her the world if he knew what was good for him.

He could lie to himself and say that it was enough to know she liked him when so many others did not. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough - but it was already more than he'd expected. In Miss French he had a friend, a bright funny friend who strode into his shop wearing killer heels and a smile that could slay his darkest days.

Still.

Mr. Gold wanted more than her grins and the light touches of her hand, and he could offer her so much more than just the chance to see the artifacts in his shop while she scraped by on half a living. Gold looked to the empty walls surrounding him, entertaining the idea of having Belle over to the house.

To have her in his home, to have her to himself without having to rush their talks or keep their connection a secret. Now that was a thought. He could picture her there with him, so bright and bubbly, she was champagne come to life.

Gold snorted.

It would be a lovely thing to have her visit but he would only be left wanting more from her after she left. He refused to let his thoughts linger on the idea. He could allow for her visits but feared becoming over eager and somehow driving her away far more than he feared her rejecting the invitation.

He needed to stop this.

Fantasizing about one of the only people in Storybrooke that he could call his friend would get him nowhere but further into frustration, and it wasn't fair to her. Belle deserved better than what he truly was, she deserved the man she believed him to be.

That thought always lifted his despondent moods. Despite the rumors and the true warnings, Belle had insisted in pursuing their friendship. With her he found himself as happy as he'd been in an age. He didn't have to make an effort when he was with her, there was no need to flex his power or put on the front meant to intimidate.

He wasn't sure if Belle was even capable of being intimidated. She was confident in all things.

He could joke with her, show off what little talents he had, and even better, Belle enjoyed their time together. The thought hit him that Belle could have some feelings for him, but he wouldn't hang much on that.

No matter.

Mr. Gold could do what he pleased within the confines of his darker imaginings, but there were lines never to be crossed in the real world.

______________________________

Belle totaled out the register and locked up the flower shop, sighing lightly as she adjusted the straps of her purse over her shoulder. It had been a slow day, slower than usual and she had been grateful to get out of the confining space. The flowers had already upset her allergies, sending her on a sneezing marathon that had only worsened her sore throat.

No texts were waiting on her cell when she checked, and she weighed the thought of dropping back in on Mr. Gold'd shop, but decided against it. Belle didn't want to pester him, and she didn't want to spend any money so she decided against going to Granny's for dinner. She shrugged to herself as she walked down the street, heading toward her apartment.

Belle caught a glimpse of Mr. Gold locking up shop for the day, but she only waved to him from across the street rather than stop to talk. She didn't want to wear out her welcome with him, and God forbid she talk to her friend in this town, there were eyes everywhere and tongues eager to wag. One public conversation between them could become some dramatic scandal by the next morning.

The woman kept walking, making her way to her apartment building's elevator and then on through her door. Stepping inside, she looked about the space, sighing lightly. Her place was a wreck, she'd let herself get sloppy the last few days. There were dishes in the sink, folded laundry on the card table, dirty clothes strewn about the floor of her bedroom where her bed was unmade.

_Messy bed, messy head._

No small wonder, her apartment was a reflection of her life at the moment.

Belle set her purse down and flopped into the soft chair she kept near the large window. Her stomach grumbled, she would put together something to eat in a bit - either a sandwich or a bowl of granola cereal, something light. She wasn't in the mood to cook.

The flower shop was not turning the profits she'd hoped for, even after the Spring Fling. That was a worry. She knew her father's finances better than he did - which wasn't saying much. He barely took notice of the business anymore, or of anything, really. If he fell behind on any payments, Mr. Gold was sure to take notice and then take action.

Belle loathed the thought of meeting her friend on financial terms, it would change everything between them. She didn't want to be in that position, to have to outline the finances with him, to pare down everything they were into financial legalese and figures on a spreadsheet.

No!

No, she had to keep the shop afloat to avoid its foreclosure and any confrontation with Mr. Gold. She would think of something.

Belle rose out of the chair and made a quick dinner of soup and crackers, sending out a mass text to her friends asking if they knew of any spare work to be done about town. She could use the money from her work at the library to pay on her own bills, and put whatever wages earned from her side work into the florist shop.

Her plan would stretch her budget very tight...but if she could keep her position at the library and keep Game of Thorns afloat it would be well worth it.

Belle rubbed a hand over her face. She could always start charging Mr. Gold for her personal assistance into his antique research, but she dismissed the thought with a snort. If anything, he should be charging her for all the pieces he'd allowed her to see over the past few months.

A wicked whisper tickled the back of her mind about Mr. Gold.

He was a rich man, by far the wealthiest man in Storybrooke. He might be open to a loan agreement, a deal...or even a favor of money.

Belle cut off all thoughts of going to to him. She couldn't do that. There would be no way to keep their friendship with thousands of dollars between them. Mr. Gold never socialized with his clients, and to go to him for money after insisting on their friendship just smacked of taking advantage. She knew he would see it that way, no matter that her fondness for him was genuine.

But even more than that, she couldn't stomach the thought of him looking into the finances. He would have questions leading into shaded family history, and then her own past. No, no. Not a cent could cross between them at the risk of the connection she'd come to cherish.

Oh, and how she did cherish her time with that man. Much more than she should, she knew. Belle smiled to herself, just thinking of him. He enjoyed their time together though he was reluctant to admit any kind of tender feeling toward her. She understood that much about him, he had his reputation to maintain against anyone who might take advantage of a perceived weakness. To view friendship as a weakness seemed to make for a lonely life, but Mr. Gold seemed to prefer things that way.

He was a strange man, but hers in a way.

She banished that thought, knowing it could lead her nowhere but into disappointment.

Her cell chirped with a text alert.

Belle smiled. It seemed she had work to do.


	8. Summer Ends

Belle stared down at her tub, freshly cleaned just days before and now filled with steaming water. She rarely bathed, but when she had a free day she couldn't resist the luxury. It cost her nothing and eased her stress; a long bath was time well spent.

She was too old for bubbles, instead adding a bit of essential oil she'd filched from Jasmine the last time their gaggle of friends had been over to her apartment.

Vanilla musk rose to mingle with the steam in the air, the scent just a touch too strong. She cracked open the window and then let down the blinds. Belle smiled to herself. It wouldn't do to give anyone a free show, she'd made that mistake when she'd first moved in, not realizing how clear the view was from the outside.

Content, Belle shrugged out of her robe and hung it on the back of the door before she eased into the heat. She hissed in pleasure as her skin pebbled from head to toe, and she shifted to recline back against the edge of the tub.

She didn't particularly care for this apartment, really she'd only chosen it because the price had been right. But she did like the tub. It wasn't one of the grand claw-foots lifted from romance novels, but it was larger than anyone would have expected for a flat this size.

Eyes roaming the blank walls surrounding her, Belle tried to relax her overtaxed mind. The past several weeks had completely exhausted her. Between her time at the library along with its extra programs, her volunteer shifts at Game of Thorns and all of the spare work she'd managed to pick up about town, Belle was _done_.

Money was still tight, but there was no way she could maintain that hectic of a schedule. Belle had to ease up on herself or she would lose her mind. Without an activity to drive her, the woman finally had a day to herself and she was damned if she was going to ruin it by dealing with the outside world.

_Hell no._

Her plan was to enjoy her bath until the water cooled, then attend to her skin, eyebrows and toenails, and after that she wanted to lose herself in her Netflix account while snacking through her kitchen.

To call it a lazy day would be to murder it with understatement, but Belle held no shame. She was a housecat at heart; given this opportunity, she wouldn't spend the time any other way.

Belle paused at that, her thoughts immediately turning to Mr. Gold.

She hadn't seen him in weeks, given her packed schedule. All they'd had were hurried greetings on the street when she'd run into him while rushing from one shift to another. The man understood, always wishing her well, and Belle missed him.

She missed him coming into the library, she missed visiting him in his pawn shop. She missed their talks, their banter, the surprising ease she'd found with him as a companion.

It often crossed her mind, the question of what he thought of her. Belle openly admired the man, adored him, truly, but Mr. Gold was always played at being aloof. It was difficult to say with certainty where he stood on anything.

_What would he do, if he was here with me, right now?_

Belle smiled wickedly to herself, shifting in the tub and closing her eyes. She summoned him in her mind, bringing his image forth. All at once, the man was there. Sitting on the vanity stool beside the bathtub, wearing his black suit paired with the dark red shirt and tie she liked on him best. He was leaning forward, staring at her, his cane nowhere in sight.

Loving this, finally having the time and privacy, the _freedom_ to indulge her darker thoughts, Belle wouldn't let the opportunity slip away.

_I'm yours, Mr. Gold..._

It was a favorite fantasy of hers, to submit to him. In their brief friendship, Belle had found herself thinking of him in this way several times. He had thundered his way into her thoughts, trampling over the celebrities and invented heroes she used in her fantasies, supplanting every other man and wrapping himself around her mind like a golden snake.

Belle couldn't stop herself, Mr. Gold was unique to every other man she'd met in town. He was always so confident, so clever, so formal. He was a man in a position of power, and handsome in a way she'd never considered before. He indulged and encouraged her curiosity, invited her to explore his treasures, he was her friend...and she couldn't help wondering if they could ever be _more._

Sometimes Belle imagined seducing him in the stacks of the library, inviting him to take her on a pile of open books. Other times, she thought of him ravishing her in the back room of the pawn shop, perhaps binding her hands with his own tie or forcing her to bend over the workbench so that he could have her from behind.

But she was in the tub now, and Mr. Gold was sitting just to her left, waiting.

_"What would you have me do, Miss French?"_

A shiver crawled over her, tightening her skin anew once she summoned his voice. She shifted again, parting her legs and palming her left breast, imagining that he had reached for her in his impatience to satisfy her need.

_"Call me Belle. You never call me Belle."_

It wasn't her hand there any longer, it was his. He stroked her breast, cupped it, let her fill his palm. The edge of his thumb grazed over her nipple, delighting at the attention.

_"Beautiful, Belle."_

_"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"_

_"Oh, yes. I adore you, Belle. You're my Cleopatra, remember? How could I resist you?"_

_"You should act on it, Mr. Gold."_

_"I will. My precious Belle. You are beautiful, but so lonely."_

Belle did this sometimes as well, changing him from a figure of pure sexual fantasy into one of comfort. He was her closest friend and most ardent lover here, a far cry from the remote man she knew in real life.

_"I am lonely, but not all the time."_

_"You wear a brave mask, my dear. Your friends all love you, but they can't understand. It's all right to be angry. I know it hasn't been easy for you."_

His fingertip grazed her nipple again, and Belle shivered happily.

_"That feels good. And you're right, it hasn't been easy in the past but everything is going so well this year. The library-"_

_"You mean the library I built for you, my sweet?"_ Belle reminded herself.

_"You didn't build it for me, you did it for some power play against the mayor."_

_"Ah, Regina. Now there's a_ real _woman."_

Belle frowned. She couldn't let her jealousy infect her time here. The water wouldn't stay hot all day.

Mr. Gold returned to her mind, this time in the tub with her, sitting so that her back was resting against his naked chest, one of his hands again on her breast, the other resting below the surface of the water, on her smooth inner thigh.

_"Mr. Gold, why can't it be like this in real life?"_

_"Hmm?"_ His fingertips had taken to rolling her nipple, his other hand now lightly stroking between her legs.

 _"You know what I mean."_ Belle stroked herself further, _"What if we said 'to hell with the town' and just did what we wanted? We could meet anywhere, do anything we chose. You pretend you don't care about anything, but I know you like me."_

 _"No. Not like. Liking is for children - I adore you, Belle. My beautiful Belle. Open for me, love."_ He commanded her, his voice growing deep.

Belle complied, dipping a finger within herself. _"It could be like this, Mr. Gold. You're lonely too."_

_"Not when I'm with you. You're so beautiful, so clever, you're perfect. Let me be good to you, let me take you away from all this."_

Mr. Gold's fingers played between her legs, stroking faster and dipping within her body, bringing her closer to the edge.

 _"Tell me,"_ Belle demanded of him.

Her fantasy was only too eager to comply, listing out her every secreted wish. _"We'll go away together, I'll take you back to Scotland with me and then we'll go to Paris and Berlin, to Greece and Spain. I'll give you everything you could want, anything to make you happy. Tell me, what do you want, Belle?"_

_"You."_

Writhing in the water, Belle bit her lip, stifling a moan as the soft climax rolled through her. She panted, opening her eyes. She was alone in the bathroom, the water cooling all around her. She took several deeps breaths, frustrated anew now.

Her pulse settled and her mind dispelled the fantasy of Mr. Gold, her pleasure slave and confidant.

Belle sighed.

It was unfair of her to think of Mr. Gold this way, using him as a fantasy, but since the first night he had crossed her mind, she had been unable to help herself. Besides, her heated imagination was harmless; Mr. Gold might think of her in the same way on occasion, who could say for sure?

Belle stepped out of the tub and drew on her robe, catching her flushed reflection in the mirror.

_Lonely girl._

Lonely girl, that's what her mother called her, years ago.

Yes, she was lonely sometimes. It made for a lonely life when she could barely afford to leave her apartment. It had been lonely growing up the way she had, it was lonely rushing from job to job with barely anything to show for it and it was lonely now, to have someone in her life she couldn't be free with in her affection.

Belle only held a trace of resentment against her friends for how easily some things had seemed to come their way. Ruby, who had her pick of any man in the room, and Ariel, whose salon pulled in more money on a busy weekend than Belle could make in a month.

But it wasn't fair to resent anyone for little things like that; Belle had plenty to be thankful for, and despite her difficulties, she was happy with her life. The library was wonderful, a dream come true for her and already it was bringing the town closer together. She was lucky to have the income she did, she had a roof over her head, she had enough to eat, she had wonderful, loyal friends who loved her. Even if her situation with Mr. Gold was not ideal, they had found a way to make it work for them.

What more could she want? What more could she beg the world for?

With that truth in mind, Belle opened the door to let out the rest of the steam and drained the tub. The woman quickly lotioned herself, absently imagining Mr. Gold's hands massaging her skin. She gave herself a pedicure, painting her toenails a soft coral pink. She treated her face and attended to her eyebrows before throwing on a pair of pajamas to start her lazy day.

She'd scrolled through her Netflix account and chosen an old favorite, though a quarter of the way into the film she'd picked up a novel and started to read. The film became pleasant background noise to the events of her book, until the chirping of her cell phone interrupted.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." Jasmine greeted her.

Belle smiled. "What's going on?"

"Girls night?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Come on, I know you're not working tomorrow morning." Jasmine coaxed her.

"You're cutting into my laying around and doing nothing time."

Jasmine laughed at that. "Come on, Belle. It's been forever. Shane and Marcus are coming, they want to dance with you."

"You mean they want to make fun of my dancing."

What Belle had once told Mr. Gold about her dance skills had been true - she had none, and her flailing on the dance floor was legendary in her circle of friends.

"We all want to do that. Come on. Rabbit Hole, 8 o'clock. If you don't show up I'll break in and drag you out of your apartment."

Belle rolled her eyes. "You make a good argument. I'll be ready. I could use some time out."

"Great! I'll let everyone know you're coming."

Belle hung up and replaced her cell on its charger, leaving her book and turning off the movie. Yes, she'd planned on a nothing day, but doing nothing was accomplishing nothing. She shook her head, scrapping any further plans of laying around she'd had for the night.

She could not allow imagining Mr. Gold with her in the bathroom as she fondled herself to be the highlight of her day.

Belle frowned at the thought. _Pathetic._

She tore through her closet, suddenly energetic, defiant against her earlier laziness. She needed to get outside of her own head for a time, to be with her friends, to have a few drinks and make a fool of herself on the dance floor.

Choosing an outfit, Belle slipped into the bathroom to do her makeup, looking forward to a night out for the first time in weeks.

______________________________

"You're in excellent health Mr. Gold."

Gold nodded and moved off the examination table, drawing on his shirt and working up the line of buttons. He smirked at the doctor's words. "Bad news for Storybrooke, I think."

Dr. Carlton, his longtime personal physician, smiled at the joke. "I guess that depends on who you ask. How are things in Storybrooke?"

Gold had been prudent in choosing a doctor well outside his own city. Sunshire was an easy enough drive, and with little else on his day's agenda, he'd chosen to spend the day there. Storybrooke could be smothering in its way, so Sunshire often served as a much-needed change of scenery.

"Things there are as they have always been. For better and for worse." Gold said, then reaching for his suit jacket. "Most days are about the same. It feels stuck in time."

Dr. Carlton considered his patient's words. He had seen Mr. Gold for over fifteen years, and from what he knew of the man's past, he felt concerned enough to ask, "Mr. Gold, have you considered that it may not be the town trapped in time, but you?"

Gold closed his eyes for a moment before turning to face the doctor. "Not this again, please."

"You've rejected the idea of therapy the last few times I've suggested it. But if not a therapist, then how about something therapeutic? Perhaps a new hobby."

Gold shrugged. "I have hobbies."

"The antiquing, isn't that part of your business?"

"Yes, but it's still more like a hobby. It's less stressful than landlording, which has to be good for me."

"Yes. Avoid stress, eat healthy, and get some exercise outside of fighting, please." He gestured to the slight bruising on Gold's knuckles.

"I only fight when I'm attacked first. Sometimes it can't be helped. Better to fight back than just take a beating."

"That sage Scottish wisdom. I bet you throw glasses in bars." The doctor groused.

Gold laughed at that. "Not for a few years, now."

"Your stress levels are lighter than they were last visit." Dr. Carlton remarked as he looked over Mr. Gold's chart. "Has there been any significant change in your life since last year?"

Mr. Gold thought of Belle, immediately sensing the calm that settled over him as he pictured her walking into his shop to see him. Belle was in his life, she was good for him. He just couldn't have her the way he wanted, which might be for the best.

"I've made a friend. She runs our new library."

This caught the doctor's attention. _"She?"_

"It's not like that." Mr. Gold snapped, with a great deal of regret. "She's just a friend, she pops by the shop a few times a week. I haven't seen her lately though, she works two or three jobs from what I understand."

"Sounds like a hard-working girl."

"She is, she's very determined." He was proud of Belle, in a way. It wasn't everyday he heard of a woman struggle so hard just to make ends meet.

He was curious about her finances, thinking that Belle might be facing down a mountain of student loans or credit card debt. He longed to help her, if she would only explain her situation, but by the same token he dreaded the prospect of Belle coming to him for a favor of money. It would undo everything between them.

"Hmm. Maybe she should come see me."

The doctor's suggestion cut into Gold's thoughts. "Why?"

"Stress treatments if she should need them." Off the other man's scowl, the doctor was quick to reassure him, "Don't worry, Mr. Gold, I'm no poacher."

"I didn't think...never mind that." Gold huffed.

Together, the men left the exam room. Gold provided his insurance information and the doctor went on, "I'm not one to spout romance as being a cure-all, but human relationships, in this case, your friendship, can go a long way in improving one's health."

Mr. Gold shrugged. He knew Belle was good for him, but she was unattainable. She was in his life until she chose to move on from him, which could be any day now for all he knew.

"I suppose I'll keep her around for a little longer, then."

"Until next time, Mr. Gold." Dr. Carlton extended his hand and Mr. Gold shook it before leaving the doctor's office.

It was a bright day, the town keeping true to its name. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and ambled down the street, feeling content with his health results, the great weather and being away from the unpleasantness of Storybrooke.

Already being late into the summer, Gold was looking forward to fall. He liked to see the leaves change, and the cooler months followed by the biting cold reminded him of home. He hadn't been back to Scotland in years. Perhaps he should schedule a flight back, but he shrugged off the idea as he rounded a corner.

Mr. Gold hadn't come out to Sunshire just for his physical, he also had a bit of business to attend to.

The man walked down a few blocks until he found what he was looking for, a subtle storefront for Howard Jewelers. Gold stepped inside and was immediately greeted by a young blonde woman in a pretty green dress.

"Good afternoon, sir, how can we help you today?"

It was a lovely jewelry store, but Gold wasn't interested in the wares that filled all the cases. He had a trade to make. "I have an appointment with Winston Howard."

The blonde - Casey, her nametag read - nodded. "Oh, yes, Mr. Gold, he told me he was expecting you. Please, right this way." She lead him to the back of the show room, past the counter, to a door.

Casey quickly knocked on the door, calling, "Mr. Howard, I have Mr. Gold here for you."

A moment later the door opened and a man perhaps Gold's age, though he admittedly wore his years much better than Gold did, greeted them both. "Thanks, Casey. Mr. Gold, c'mon in."

He shut the door behind Gold and the men stood in the office, sizing each other up as they had never met before, they had only ever spoke on the phone and so were unsurprised by each other's accents - Gold's Scottish burr and Howard's southern drawl, both far removed from the east coast.

They both wore fine suits, and Howard was itching to ask after Gold's tailor, almost certain that they used the same service. Howard was taller, fuller, more classically handsome, and he found himself intrigued by Gold's unique appearance. Gold was a small man, with a slight frame that was thickening with his middle years, he wore his graying hair long and he walked with a cane. Interesting, that, but Howard wasn't so rude that he'd ask after the injury.

That wouldn't be good business, and he'd already waited years to get his hands on what Gold claimed to possess.

"Gold, have a seat. I'm guessing you're not one for dawdling around and neither am I so let's get to it."

"I would appreciate that."

Mr. Gold moved to sit in the plush leather chair before Howard's desk. The man had a proper office, whereas Gold just had the back work room of the pawn shop where he repaired antiques. No matter. The study in his home was more than enough for his needs.

Howard came around the desk and took a velvet pouch out from the main drawer just as Gold withdrew an antique brooch from his breast pocket. It was a gorgeous piece that he'd polished to perfection, the yellow gold shining in the overhead light, with emeralds, citrine and pearls adding lovely accent to the ivory cameo face piece.

Howard whistled at the sight of it. "Now that is a beauty."

Gold nodded his agreement. "It took me some time to track it down, but here it is."

"And there it is," Howard marveled. "And here you are, Gold. Six of my best."

Howard handed Gold the velvet pouch just as Gold passed him the brooch.

As Howard looked over the brooch with his jeweler's eyepiece, Gold opened the pouch and spread out six flawless amethysts over the surface of the desk. The men were silent as they looked over their respective treasures, two dragons cooing over new jewels.

Several long minutes passed as they brought all their experience to bear and then looked up at each other, satisfied with the trade.

Howard stood and offered his hand to Gold, who was quick to shake. After dealing with his two-faced clients in Storybrooke, it was intensely refreshing to make a civilized deal with another man of business integrity.

"All good, Gold?"

"These will do very well, thank you. And you, the brooch fits your needs?"

Howard took it in his hand and stroked the front face of it with his thumb. He was already in love. "It's perfect, Gold. Pleasure doing business with you."

"And with you, Howard."

The men shook hands again, and Howard walked Gold out to the showroom. Casey was speaking with a pair of customers, but she looked up and smiled at Mr. Howard.

Gold noted the fondness that passed between them.

The parallels between Howard and himself were suddenly a bit too familiar, so Gold quickly gave the man a polite goodbye and went on about his day.

______________________________

Blinking away that memory, Gold stood near a stall at Storybrooke's annual Fall Festival. It was a carnival weekend where the town square was taken over by craft and food stalls, petting zoos, pony rides, haystack mazes, games, raffles and auctions. The scent of fried foods and cotton candy filled the air, as did the music piped through speakers strung throughout the square.

It was a pleasant marker between the end of summer and the beginning of autumn.

Despite his prickly disposition, Gold actually enjoyed these community holidays. The Fall Festival was his second favorite, narrowly beaten by Storybrooke's Spring Fling, which was much the same as the festival, differing only in that there were flower shows that could shame any arboretum of a larger city.

He walked past the game stalls, trying to ignore the pull in his chest at the sight of so many children out enjoying the day. He didn't have time for those memories, he had a private visit with Madame Mayor to arrange.

The thought of Regina brought on that strange emotion reserved solely for her; a mutual fondness and annoyance. He enjoyed toying with the woman, but he already knew that the tables had turned today, and she would be the one toying with him.

Gold knew the woman too well; he knew what she would have him do for her in exchange for what he wanted. He didn't mind since it was a pleasure to him as well, but he would rather-

"Mr. Gold!"

He looked up, brought out of his thoughts by Belle stepping into his line of sight. She was lovely as ever in a knee-length dress of deep violet, the color making her bright eyes absolutely startling.

How could it be that she had grown lovelier in their time apart?

They had not properly spoken to each other in weeks due to her taking on extra work, and Gold surprised himself by allowing a wide smile to cross his face and he reached forward, his hand closing over her forearm in a semblance of an embrace, his thumb stroking the inside of her elbow as she returned the grasp on his arm, her clever fingertips stroking him through the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"Miss French. It's been too long."

They had made an agreement toward discretion, true, but to hell with the town, just greeting each other in the crowd was hardly worth noting. He couldn't help but stare at her, he'd been deprived of her company, his greedy eyes were eating her up and his chest was fluttering again for being close to her.

"I know. Thankfully things have evened out, I'll be back to bothering you soon enough."

"Is that a threat?" He asked.

Belle winked at him. "It's a promise."

Gold felt an annoying heat rise over his throat and prayed she wouldn't see it come over his cheeks. "I'll have your teacup ready for your next visit, my dear." He said warmly.

"And I'll bring you my latest tea blend, it's wild orange blossom, you'll love it." She promised excitedly. Belle could feel her chest tighten with fondness for the man, seeing that he had truly missed her in their time apart. Perhaps her feelings weren't quite so one-sided as she'd thought.

They stood, just looking at each other, until someone passing by nudged Belle's shoulder, breaking the trace they'd held over each other. It was in that moment they both seemed to realize that they were still holding the other's arm, and they immediately dropped the contact, smiling lightly and ignoring their blushes.

"I didn't think I'd see you out here today." Belle said as she fell into step with him, moving through the square.

"You're right, I'm usually not much for mingling, but sometimes I just can't stay away." Gold admitted, inclining his head toward their mayor. Regina was standing several yards to their right, directing a group of performers toward the main staging area before the civil building that fronted the fair.

"The mayor made you come?"

Gold flashed her a sly look. "She likes to think so, but no one makes me do anything."

Belle didn't doubt that for a moment. She was well aware of his defiant personality, just as he knew her to be perhaps too soft-hearted for her own good.

"Would you like a cider?" He asked, gesturing to the food stalls.

The hot apple cider, dusted with cinnamon, was an old favorite brewed by John and Michael Tims. The dim-witted brothers often sold so much of the drink that they would run out and need to make more throughout the fair to keep up with the town's demand.

Belle smiled. "I've already had a few cups, but thank you. I came out today to see the crafts, I was hoping to find something to brighten up my apartment. The stained glass is beautiful but a bit too pricey. I might get a little print for the wall instead."

Glancing past her to the craft stands, Gold raised a brow. He hated that Belle worked so hard and still had to deprive herself. "Which piece did you like? Show me, I'd be happy to-"

"There you are, Gold."

Both Gold and Belle turned to see their mayor approaching, as polished as ever in a sleek charcoal dress topped with a camel peacoat. She stood tall on a pair of killer stiletto heels that Gold himself had gifted to her as congratulations for her winning the popular vote, securing her seat over Storybrooke.

"Madame Mayor." He greeted.

Gold shared a quick knowing look with Belle, and he gave her a nod of dismissal. Belle played her part, flashing him another quick wink and slinking away from him as Regina came close.

Truly, Belle was disappointed to have their reunion cut short, but Mr. Gold would make time for her in private. In his shop, they didn't have to play at being near strangers to each other, and Belle looked forward to that much more than she should.

Regina followed Belle with her eyes, watching as the woman retreated into the crowd. She was quickly joined by two men and a blonde woman, and the small group went off toward the game stalls.

Regina looked back to Gold. "What was the librarian after?"

Gold shrugged. "Who knows? Some nonsense about adding on to the children's section."

Regina raised a brow. "The library has barely been open for six months and she wants additions? No. That can wait until next fiscal year."

Gold nodded his agreement, keeping up the lie. "Nevermind her, let the library burn. You know why I'm here."

"I have that item you wanted." Regina said plainly. She was happy, content with the day so far, and was now eagerly anticipating their evening together.

"Where?"

"You know where." She said, revelling in their banter. "Come to my house. Tonight."

"And what will I have to do for you once I get there?" Gold wasn't sure why he bothered to ask when he already knew the answer. They played this game at least twice a month.

Regina raised a smug brow at him, and Gold groaned. "You're insatiable, Regina. So like your mother."

Her appetite for his skill was flattering, but all the same her price was becoming tiresome. Regina grinned, knowing she'd won. "You know my price, you know what I want."

"All too well." Gold relented with a soft smile that soon matched her own. He could never stay cross with her when it came to this. "So, will you be providing the whipped cream this time or should I?"


	9. Winter Comes

Gold poured a glass of wine and then another, carrying both into the living room where Regina awaited him. She was reclining back on the sofa, facing the fireplace. The licking flames gilded her skin, heating her and the room entire. He quirked his lips at the sight of her. She looked like a spoiled cat, and with good reason for the effort he'd put in tonight.

He set the wine glasses on the low table and moved to sit beside her, taking her bare feet into his lap. He didn't mind, her dainty paws were always well-manicured and polished. Gold began a massage of her feet, putting gentle pressure into her arches.

"Tonight was wonderful as always, Gold." Regina told him, breaking the silence.

Gold smiled at the compliment, sated and smug. "I do aim to please, Madame Mayor."

She reached for a glass and took a long pull of the wine, watching him over the rim. Regina stretched. "Mm, you sure do. Keep this up and I'll have you move in."

"Oh, wherever will you find room for me in this tiny house?" Gold asked. The mayoral mansion stretched out around them in all directions, six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, four open use rooms, a large sun room, a formal dining room, and the living room they were using now for this, one of their many private meetings.

Regina shrugged. "I have a dungeon in the basement or there's a cage in my room, take your pick."

Gold laughed. "A cage? And how many of your other victims would I have to share it with?"

The woman shrugged. "Only a few, Gold. You know I keep things discreet. Oh, I forgot to ask you, how was that doctor's appointment?"

"Perfect health." Gold told her, his hands moving on to massage her ankles for a minute before he moved her feet off his lap so that he could reach for his own glass. It was a deep red, and a good year. He only drink wine with her.

"Oh, good."

Gold shrugged, "Yes, I'm afraid you're stuck with me for awhile more yet."

"I'll just have to work harder to drive you out of town, then." Regina remarked, and she wondered if she could get an order to foreclose his pawn shop the next time he spent a day out of town.

"You seem to forget I was here first."

"I haven't forgotten. But _I_ won the mayoral seat."

"Oh, Regina. You may have the mayoral seat, but the chair is in my house." Gold narrowed his eyes at her. "You'd still be a legal aid in cheap shoes without me."

Regina glanced down to her stilettos, set on the floor just beside the sofa, thinking back to the night of her triumph. They had been together, waiting at his house as the results were announced on television. As her name flashed across the screen, Regina had screamed out her victorious joy, while Gold had only smiled, withdrawing the shoebox with the designer's label elegantly scrawled over the lid. A gift for her, "So that you'll look the part. Congratulations, Madame Mayor." He'd said. Regina remembered thinking that night that Gold had been pleased, but not a bit surprised by the election's outcome.

Regina shook her head and shifted off the sofa to retrieve Gold's favor. "That's not something I'm likely to forget. You hold it over me every time you need something special."

"I don't bother you for favors all that often. Only when I need things to hurry along. I'm usually patient."

"I'll give you that, you always take your time. So why fast-track this?" Regina asked, handing him the permit he'd requested.

Gold took it from her and leaned forward on the sofa as he gave it a quick once-over to make sure it was all in order. It was, of course. Regina was never sloppy with her paperwork and she knew better than to try pulling any tricks with him.

"I want to have everything wrapped by the end of the fiscal year, this was the best way toward that end."

"Clever."

"Why, thank you." Gold checked his watch and frowned lightly. He had stayed longer than he'd intended, but time with her could never be rushed. "Regina, I'm going to head back home."

Likewise, Regina looked over to the clock on the mantel. It was already past midnight. "You sure?"

"Yes, it'll be a long day tomorrow." Gold gestured to the permit. "If I stay the night here I won't want to leave."

Regina smiled, "That wouldn't be so bad. Henry loves when you come to visit."

"Oh, just Henry?" Gold teased as she moved past him to retrieve his suit jacket. He had left it in the other room along with her own coat before they'd gotten on to their private evening.

Gold nodded his thanks to her and stood to slip on his jacket. He straightened his shirt and tie, smoothed his hair, putting himself back into some semblance of respectability, and then took his cane from Regina.

"All right. Maybe me too." She relented, moving to follow him to the front door. Regina hadn't bothered with her heels, she followed after him barefoot in the hall.

Gold paused at the door before leaving, turning to her, "Regina...you do know that, if things had been different..."

He let it hang there, as he always did. Regina knew his reasons, every one of them, all too well.

"I know." She said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Gold...Henry's softball team has a game next Saturday, in Rockland. Will you come?"

He did not miss the hope in her voice and so could not refuse. "Of course."

"Thank you. I know he'll be happy to have you there."

"I wouldn't miss it. Goodnight, Regina."

Gold kissed her cheek before leaving, the same way he had every time they parted company in private.

______________________________

As the days grew shorter, Belle's schedule settled into a more managable balance. She kept her shifts at the library and the flower shop, only taking on extra work when it was absolutely necessary to assist with the bills.

The woman had had a stern talk with her father, making herself clear that he could count on her help but she would be damned if she did it all herself.

Belle sighed lightly to herself, touching the single pearl at her throat. _I don't know why he keeps the shop. She's not coming back._

Winter wasn't coming any longer, it had arrived. The autumn has been swift and Belle had been content enough. She had reconnected with her friends, added a few comforting touches to her bedroom and was feeling more and more confident in her ability to run the library.

Someday she might have it all.

But not today.

Belle rubbed at the back of her neck and went on reshelving books in the back stacks. Even the tedious work here was calming to the woman; the library, naturally, was a still and quiet place during the daylight hours, and depending on what day it was, there would be an evening program put on for the children such as the live readings (not a single one of her co-stars could hold a candle to Mr. Gold's performance as far as Belle was concerned) or Midnight Story Circle, or there were the adult book clubs and literacy assistance.

Belle loved it, all of it, but she was only part-time due to her lack of prior experience. Mrs. Mullins worked the majority of time as she had spent years in the stacks of Sunshire's Central Library. Belle wasn't ready to take the reigns by herself yet, but in a year or two, yes, she could do it.

Once she had full-time work and the full-time paychecks to go along with it, Belle would be more secure. She felt a small swell of hope at the thought. _One job, regular hours_. She could save up more money, maybe enough to go back to school or even travel.

_Not yet._

She was getting too far ahead of herself.

For now Belle would have to limp along with the $768 she had in her savings account, presenting her friends with handmade crafts or clearance gifts for the holidays and their birthdays, watching every penny spent and every dime on the ground.

But she could do it. For the future she pictured for herself, the quiet, happy life she strived for, she could do it.

Belle tucked a baking book under her arm and kept it on her side of the check-out counter. She'd check it out for herself at the end of her shift.

"Ring my Belle!"

She turned around and smiled, "Marcus!"

Another of her boyfriends from high school who had gone on to make good and changed throughout the years. Unlike Shane who had taken over his late father's jewelry store, Marcus had taken his love of everything with an engine and went to work as a mechanic. He had been saving for years and, with a hefty loan from Mr. Gold, he finally had enough capital to venture out on his own. His plan was to open his own auto parts store, to make himself a valuable resource to the town. It was ambitious, something Gold appreciated and so they had worked out the details quickly, and Marcus would be set to open his store in the next few months.

Belle gave the man a quick hug. "What brings you in?" She asked, her voice hushed.

Marcus put his arm around Belle's shoulders and steered her toward the admittedly small automotive section of the library. Whenever he came in to visit her at work, he always checked out the same set of books. "I have a unique opportunity and I couldn't wait to tell you." He confided quietly. "Tomorrow I'm going down to New Hampshire to see a man about a horse."

Belle pulled out of his hold and turned to face him. "You don't mean-?"

"Yes. I called the guy last night the second I saw the ad pop up online. It needs some work but the price is right." Marcus told her, practically bouncing before her. "I'm going for it, Belle! It's too good an opportunity to pass up, I have to have it!"

For as long as they had known each other, Belle had known of Marcus's longing for his dream car: a 1965 cherry red Ford Mustang. He planned to do all kinds of modern additions to the car without ruining the classic look that he'd idolized since he was a boy.

He was a man now, but every bit the young boy obsessed with his favorite toy as he took out his cell and showed Belle the ad. The car shown in the pics was a bit beat up, its original white paint chipped and scraped. But Marcus was in love, Belle hadn't seen the excited shine in his eyes since he'd first seen-

"Belle."

Both Belle and Marcus turned to see Ariel stride in close. Her gorgeous hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders, and she was dressed casually in jeans, a white blouse and a soft brown leather jacket hugging tight to her waist.

"Hey, Ariel, want to see my new baby?" Marcus stepped over and showed her the pictures. "She needs a little work, but give me a year - hell, give me four months, tops, and I'll have her looking better than brand new."

Ariel smiled. "I don't doubt it."

Marcus's eyes were hungrily scrolling through the stream of pictures again and again, expanding each one to better assess the details. "It'll be amazing, when I'm finished this town will be swarming with photographers trying to get pictures of her for the cover of _MotorTrend."_

Belle winked at Ariel, "He's modest, isn't he?"

Ariel pat his shoulder. "The man's obsessed, but I won't turn down a ride when the car's road ready."

Marcus absently shook his head. "Sorry, Red, but Belle will be the first chick I pick up in my ride. The passenger seat is reserved for her ass and her ass alone, at least for the first spin around town." He gave a sound smack to Belle's rear, drawing looks from a few people reading at nearby tables.

Belle shoved him away, but Marcus wasn't bothered as he headed to the automotive section and pulled his usual books covering race cars and, naturally, his favorite, _The Complete Book of Mustang_ by Mike Mueller.

Ariel rolled her eyes at him. Marcus could be crass and inappropriate just for the hell of it, but he had proved himself a friend time and time again to them both throughout the years. "He's such a charmer."

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance at a ride in his baby once he's fixed it." Belle told her. "I know he'll be buried in those books for a little bit. What brings you by?"

Ariel dismissed Marcus and moved with Belle over toward the check-out desk. "He's not the only one with news. I'm going to submit my book to some salons in New York."

Belle raised her brows. "You are? That's great!"

After her clients went for a dramatic change in their hair, such as a perm, a big cut, adding bangs or a color wash, Ariel took 'before' and 'after' pictures and kept them in a book to be submitted to the top stylists hiring in New York. She didn't want to leave her family salon, but there was so much more she could learn and so many opportunities to expand her skills outside of Storybrooke. She was determined to try.

Ariel smiled at her. "I just wanted to let you know since you're in it, remember the red wash?"

Belle nodded. "I loved that look but you know I can't afford the upkeep-"

"I know, I know! Promise me when you're full-time you'll dye it again, it suits you perfectly." Ariel told her.

"I promise." Belle said, and put a hand over her heart.

Ariel frowned and grabbed Belle's hand. "Your nails are chipped, Belle. Come see me tomorrow."

Belle pulled her hand out of Ariel's grasp. "Hey! I'm not letting myself go, a manicure had to take a backseat to Game of Thorns last week, that's all."

Her friend nodded. "I get it, I do, but we can't have you in Marcus's new car with nails like that."

Belle and Ariel laughed quietly, glancing back to Marcus, so engrossed in his car books and completely oblivious to the outside world.

Ariel left soon after, and Marcus wasn't far behind her after he'd checked out the Mueller book for the third time in as many months. Belle went on through her shift, checking out the baking book for herself at the end of the day.

Belle was excited to help Nova and maybe this would be the start of a new hobby, something she desperately needed since so much of her life revolved around working and the stress of stretching dollars.

At least baking was stress-free, it was low-cost and yielded tasty rewards.

Belle bought a handful of ingredients on her way home and got ready to begin.

______________________________

December rolled over Storybrooke, biting and harsh.

Snow had hit the town, blanketing everything in white. Gold liked the winter, it reminded him of his youth in Scotland, wonderful memories of love and fun and unending potential.

He looked over to his companion.

With her time finished at the library, Belle had popped over to visit with Gold until Ruby got off her shift in another hour. Gold didn't mind in the least. Rather than sit at the counter and watch him, Belle had pitched in, helping him arrange a bookshelf with newly acquired first editions and then, she had wandered the floor with a Swiffer dry dust mop as he balanced the shop ledger. His accounts were all handled online, but Gold liked to use a ledger for inventory purposes and as a backup in case the system ever failed him.

Gold glanced up from his work to watch as Belle moved about the shop, her eyes taking in the musical instruments he had hanging on the walls behind the far counter. He wondered if she played anything, if she could play him a little song. He favored her visits above any others, Belle was above every other soul who ventured into his shop, and watching the lights from outside dance over her hair, Gold knew then that he'd made the right decision.

He called her over to the counter.

"Miss French, I don't celebrate the holiday anymore, but as you've been so helpful these last several months..."

Gold set a little box on the counter between them, his meaning plain. Belle grinned and opened the gift, her eyes going wide once she saw the treasure within.

Nestled in the velvet inserts was a pair of teardrop topaz earrings, the stones the brightest blue that Belle had ever seen. "Oh, Mr. Gold, they're just beautiful!" Belle lifted one earring to get a closer look, her chest lurching to see the stone catch the light. These earrings were genuine, the topaz having to have cost upward of a thousand dollars. "And much too expensive, you shouldn't have spent so much-"

Gold waved off her concern. "Think nothing of it. They're a gift, as you've proven yourself a gifted research assistant. You earned them."

Belle looked down to the earrings again, then back up to him, moved. "Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. Gold. They're just perfect. I'll wear them every day." She promised. "You know, I got you a little something too."

"No need."

Belle shook her head, "Please, you've livened things up for me whether you know it or not. May I have your tie?"

"My tie?"

"Just for a minute." Belle removed a plastic container from her tote bag and set it on the counter. "Have a cookie, I made them for you."

Gold lifted the lid, the scents of cinnamon and chocolate rising to greet him. When was the last time a woman had baked for him? When was the last time anyone had given a damn?

"Miss French...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything other than, 'these are the best I've ever had, Belle'." She told him, making a bad attempt at copying his accent.

Gold slipped off his tie and handed it to her, then took an oatmeal raisin cookie for himself, biting into it with relish. "You were right, this is the best I've ever had." And his words were genuine as he reached for another, this one a tart orange-cranberry. His wife had been a wonderful cook, but she'd rarely baked sweets.

The man watched, curious, as Belle moved to the wall mirror and tied his tie about her own neck. He wasn't sure why until he saw her slip a thin golden pin into the material. Ah, a new tie pin - he already had several, but held his tongue in telling her so. Belle slipped the tie over her head and came back to him, looping it about his neck, tucking it under his collar, sliding the knot, tightening it for him.

Gold had frozen, going still with surprise at how close Belle was to him, by her hands-on behavior. The only reason anyone else in Storybrooke would get this close would be to strangle him, but miracle that she was, Belle didn't seem bothered by touching him at all. She took a step back to assess the man, and smiled.

Belle hadn't planned to buy her friends anything for the holiday, but a Groupon deal had popped up in her e-mail presenting an offer too good to pass on. With the coupon tickets, she had been able to select a handful of gifts for her close friends - a pair of stud earrings for Ruby, a bracelet for Ariel, a watch for Marcus, a wallet for Shane, and the tie pin for Mr. Gold - from an online store at clearance prices. How could she refuse? Even small gifts would be better than coming up empty-handed or just handing out cookies to everyone she knew.

Mr. Gold stood before her, the pin a gleaming break in the black of his suit. He was as handsome as ever, and Belle was pleased to see him wear something that she had gifted to him. He was hers, and he wore the proof.

"There we are."

Gold looked down at his tie and smirked to see a tiny engraved **G** in the center of the pin.

_Nice touch, that._

"Thank you very much, Miss French."

The man watched as Belle then moved to the mirror and put on her new earrings, turning back to him with a dazzling smile, "Now how do I look?"

"Lovely as always."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Gold." Belle winked, and she was so very happy. The woman was preening, color rising in her cheeks. Gold didn't know it, but the topaz earrings were the first genuine gemstones that Belle could call her own.

"I certainly hope so."

Belle laughed but any further giggle ceased in her throat as she checked her watch. "Oh, I have to run, but I'll see you when I get back." She touched his hand. "Thank you again for my earrings. Merry Christmas, Mr. Gold."

Gold watched as she hurried across the street to meet with Ruby just outside of the diner. The two friends hugged and laughed together, thick as thieves.

He fingered his new tie pin and smiled to himself, "Merry Christmas, Belle."

A light snow began to fall, and Gold returned to his work.


	10. Tenderness

Belle curled into the cushions of her reading chair, a fleece blanket drawn over her shoulders. It was late and she couldn't sleep, a lucky thing she wasn't working in the morning. She couldn't concentrate on her reading, the stack of novels on the floor was proof enough of her restless mind. For once she wasn't kept awake with worry over money; rather, she was preoccupied with Mr. Gold.

Belle fingered one of the topaz at her ears and removed the earring to look at it.

The man had gifted her a beautiful pair of earrings in gratitude for her help in researching the treasures that had passed through his shop over the past several months. She had heard the rumors and ignored them all, finding an unexpected friend in the town monster. Belle did not lie to herself; she was happy with Mr. Gold as her friend but she would like to explore more with him, and why not? They shared so many interests, and they got along so well. Though he was unlike any of the other men in her past, Belle had found herself deeply attracted to him, even giving in to lustful fantasies while in the bath or late at night in bed.

The man was a frequent visitor to her daydreams and active thoughts, but now, Belle didn't know what to think, because she hadn't met with Mr. Gold or even heard from him in weeks. No one had seen Mr. Gold since late December, nearly a month ago. The days left in January were dwindling, and no one seemed to care that Mr. Gold had vanished.

 _Maybe vanished isn't the right word_ , Belle thought, her eyes still on the topaz earring she held. _He closed his shop, he locked up his house, he took his wallet, cell phone and car. He_ planned _this._

Yes, he'd planned to go away somewhere and he hadn't breathed a word of his intentions to her.

Belle had been as casual as she could manage when she'd questioned the sheriff at Granny's after seeing the sign on the pawn shop door, a notice of the shop undergoing a temporary closing. "I was going to see about selling an old bracelet of my mother's to Mr. Gold but there's a sign on the door saying he's closed up shop. Do you know when he'll be back?" She'd asked, inwardly clamoring for anything Graham might know.

Sheriff Graham hadn't been much help, shrugging as he'd tucked into a lunch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. "Gold does this every couple years or so, he disappears in the winter for weeks at a time to do some business out of state. No big deal."

_No big deal._

That was the attitude of everyone Belle had mentioned Mr. Gold's disappearance to, hoping someone would have more details to share with her - what kind of business he was doing, who he was dealing with, how long he would stay away. She spun the same story of needing to sell a bracelet to explain her interest in his whereabouts, but she could not explain away the urgency of her questions.

But as no one cared much for the man, so no one missed him or knew for sure where he'd gone. Belle couldn't stop her mind spinning off a hundred different explanations, nearly all of them ending with Mr. Gold dead in a ditch somewhere because he was a rich, vulnerable man and the world could be cruel, even within the soft confines of Storybrooke.

Belle knew she needed to stop this.

Mr. Gold had probably decided to take a vacation to Boston or New York after his business. For a moment she pictured the man strolling through a lavish hotel suite in a fluffy robe, but then why wouldn't he have mentioned he was planning the trip? He'd agreed that they were friends, so why would he do this, just disappear without a word? It didn't make any sense to Belle, and she was truly hurt by his silence.

A lone car passed by on the street below, and she realized it was well past midnight. _I need to go to sleep - I can't keep worrying after him, I'll drive myself crazy._ Belle smiled to herself, even rolling her eyes as she moved toward her bedroom. _It's a short drive from here to insanity!_

Belle took off the other earring, setting the pair on her nightstand before settling back under the covers of her bed. She was tired of worrying for him, tired of missing the man, and if Graham was to be believed, then Mr. Gold could be coming back any day now.

Belle scowled, because the next time she saw the man, she planned to really let him have it for disappearing on her. Of course, that might scare Mr. Gold out of town for good.

______________________________

Sunday morning dawned bright and bitter cold, and thanks to another restless night, Belle woke late and was slow in starting her day. The library was closed, and she wasn't working the flower shop either. It was to be another lazy Sunday, but she was determined to break her hermit habit and spend some time with actual people, not just those in her books or online.

So, Belle showered, she dressed, she put on her face and a jacket over her sweater and jeans. She thought to run down to Granny's to visit Ruby and grab something to eat, then check in with Emma to see if she was up for some shopping. Shane had given her a pre-loaded debit card for Christmas, so she had a little extra to spend on herself for once.

Belle made her way down the street, passing the pawn shop as she had for days, and glanced down at the door, expecting to see the sign - but it wasn't there!

She stopped short to look through the window, and caught sight of movement inside the shop. Belle didn't waste any time, she ignored the 'closed' sign and plowed through the front door, crying out, "Mr. Gold!" with all the subtlety of a bullhorn.

The man was standing in his usual spot toward the back of the shop, his arms spread, hands braced forward on the counter before him. He lifted his head to greet her. "Ah, Miss French. Hello."

When Mr. Gold looked up at her, Belle stopped short at the sight of him. Despite his suit, an impeccable grey with a pale blue shirt and thin black tie beneath, the man looked terrible. His face was pale, gaunt, the soft lines that bracketed his mouth seemed deeper, and his dark eyes were bloodshot.

"Mr. Gold, where've you been?" Her concern over his appearance was fading in the face of outright curiosity. She had to know what had taken him away from her for so long, damn it!

Gold straightened, twisting the ornate ring he often wore on his right hand. "There was some business I had to attend to." He said softly, and Belle wasn't in any way naive. She knew he was lying.

"I don't believe you. What kind of business would take you away for a month without a word?" She demanded.

Gold visibly bristled at the question. "The private kind, Miss French."

Seeing Belle draw back at his tone, Gold immediately softened his voice. He was wrong to snap at her when she'd clearly missed him because God knew no one else had. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, it's been a trying time and I haven't been sleeping well."

"I know how you feel, I haven't been sleeping well either." _Because instead of sleeping I've been up all night for weeks worried about you, you idiot!_ She bit her tongue to keep from screaming the rest at him.

Gold speared frustrated fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't have...have you eaten yet?"

Belle was taken off-guard by the question, "Not yet, no."

"Come with me, we'll pop over to Granny's." Gold suggested. "I'll buy you breakfast and we'll talk. Besides, it'll be good to show my face, let the townsfolk know their dragon has come back."

Belle couldn't turn down the offer of a free breakfast, and she couldn't resist the promise in her friend's mischievous smile.

______________________________

Mr. Gold was not himself, that much had been clear to Belle when she'd first seen him. In the months they'd known each other, in the countless visits between them at the shop and the library and whenever they ran into each other all about town, he had never looked anything other than calm and wholly collected.

Now, though, Belle was seeing a crack in the polished veneer of Mr. Gold. He looked both exhausted and restless, disheveled in spite of his wardrobe, and it was clear that wherever he'd been all this time had caused him a great deal of distress.

_But he's home now. That has to be worth something._

Belle kept her resentment over his leaving to herself; Mr. Gold clearly didn't want to discuss the details of his time away, he'd rather stay with this vague story of business out of town. He was hiding something, but the truth of it upset him in a way that Belle had never seen before.

She decided that she would be a supportive friend rather than nag at him to tell her what he would rather keep private; she would be positive, a bright beacon to lift this darkness that had come over him.

Thankfully, she could tell he was more at ease being out of the shop, though whether it was her doing or the coffee that was helping him focus, Belle could not say.

"So, did you find what you were looking for while you were gone?" Belle asked, trying to be nonchalant as she sipped her own cup of coffee.

Inside, she was dying to know what the man had done while he'd been away, and why he was acting so strangely now. His snapping at her in the shop she could chalk up to the trouble sleeping he'd mentioned - that didn't bother her at all, who in the world had never felt a moment's irritation? What was out of character for him was that Gold had offered to take her to breakfast, flaunting their connection out in the open.

_Maybe he's just had enough of hiding. Maybe I have, too._

Mr. Gold sat across from her, on his second cup. Ruby was quick in making her rounds with the fresh pot of coffee, but from the curious looks she was shooting to Belle, it was obvious she was just trying to eavesdrop.

"In a way."

"That's good. Did you get anything you need help researching?"

"No. It wasn't that kind of trip. What I look for when I go and what I find when I make the trip are always two different things. What I'm looking for...I won't find it again. Ever." He grimaced, but then gave her a sad, crooked smile. "But I keep looking, so the rumors of my insanity are true."

The man began to tear at his paper napkin, the tension within emerging in his words and the busyness of his hands.

Belle knew that he had just confided something important to her, but she couldn't understand him for the vague phrasing he'd used. Whatever it was, he was deeply troubled by the secret he held.

What could she do but offer her help?

Belle had more questions itching on her tongue, but Ruby approached their table bearing waffles, eggs, sausage, juice and more coffee. They thanked her, and Gold was quick to evade the question he knew was coming next.

"I need ketchup, one moment."

Gold stood and went to the counter for a bottle, just as Regina came into the diner, her lithe form wrapped in a deep cranberry sheath dress with her favored camel peacoat topping it, nude heels on her feet. Belle tensed in the boothe once Regina's dark eyes locked on to Mr. Gold.

The man noticed that Belle's attention had shifted, and he turned around to see Regina standing there.

"So, Gold, you're back." She stated plainly, her voice just dripping with condescension.

"Yes, Madame Mayor, I'm back. Congratulations for having eyes." Gold hissed. "I would've stayed gone but God knows I can't leave this town under your leadership. It'd be anarchy in another week."

Belle wasn't sure what she was seeing, but it was clear to her that, while their voices were saying one thing, their eyes were saying another.

Something was happening here, what was she missing?

"Yes, well, I meant to thank you for staying away this Christmas, but now the holidays are over I see you're ready to sweep in and spread your usual brand of misery. So glad to have you back."

Just as Regina had finished that insult, young Henry came into the diner, oblivious to the tension between the adults. "Mom, I forgot to ask if I can have some - Mr. Gold, you came back!"

Henry rushed forward and hugged Gold about the waist, drawing stares of mingled confusion and amusement from everyone in the diner.

Pain flashed across Mr. Gold's face for a moment before he covered it with a smile and returned the boy's happy embrace. He pulled back and ruffled Henry's hair, true fondness in the touch. "Hey, Henry. How are you? Been doing well in school?"

"Oh, yes, we're starting to learn about the other planets in science class, it's my favorite! I can already name them all." The boy boasted. "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars - did you know that Mars is the name of the Roman God of War? He was also called Ares in ancient Greece and-"

"Henry." Regina put a hand on her son's shoulder, halting his words. Once Henry got to talking about other worlds, there was no stopping him. "Ah, Henry, we should let Mr. Gold get on with his breakfast. Please, go back to the car. Go ahead, I'm right behind you."

At his mother's urging, Henry did as he was told and returned to the sedan in the parking lot, waiting for his mother to bring the box of donuts, their Sunday treat after church.

Once her son was out of sight, Regina scowled at Gold again. "Whatever you're up to, whatever game you're playing, I won't let you get away with it. I'll be by the shop later."

Gold forced a smile. "Oh, I look forward to that, dearie."

Regina took her box from Ruby, managing to do so without breaking her stare from Gold's. Turning on her heel, she left the diner. In the wake of the mayor's departure, oxygen seemed to rush back into the restaurant, and the other customers resumed their conversations, the diner again filling with Sunday morning chatter.

Gold moved back into the boothe to face Belle. "I apologize for that, it seems our mayor wanted to welcome me back personally."

Belle's jaw tensed with what she was readying herself to say. "Mr. Gold, we are friends, aren't we?"

"I like to think so, Miss French."

"Then what are you hiding?" She asked, crossing her arms before her.

Gold started at the question, rattling his coffee cup. "Excuse me?"

"Stop keeping me in the dark. I'm not blind. You disappear for weeks without a word, and then all that with the mayor?" Belle gestured to the counter where they'd had that toxic exchange. "You two seemed like you were friends after we had our performance at the library, but every time before and every time after that night you've been at each other's throats. Something is wrong, I know it. Please tell me what's really happening. I'd help if you'd only let me."

And that, right there, her words, the truth in her eyes, was what made Gold love her.

And his time away was all the reminder he'd needed of why she could never be his.

Gold looked away, sorry for the lies he had to tell her, sorry for everything that he was. "I just...I have a complicated relationship with our mayor, as I do most people. And as to where I was...I am sorry that I didn't tell you I was leaving. I've forgotten that there is an element of responsibility that goes hand in hand with having a friend." Gold reached across the table to take her hand, pleased that she didn't pull back from him. "I should have mentioned that I was going away."

"But where did you go? The truth this time, please, Mr. Gold." Belle asked in earnest, squeezing his fingers.

Gold wanted to tell her, truly he did, but some things he preferred to keep private, while still others he refused to discuss with anyone, for any reason whatsoever. Gold guarded his secrets as fiercely as a dragon guarded its hoard.

"I was in Sunshire for part of the time I was away." He allowed. That much was harmless to share.

"And the rest of the time?"

Gold held fast to his cup, bracing for Belle's anger. "I'm sorry, that I can't say."

Rather than anger, the woman only chuckled at his evasive answer, and she sighed lightly, letting go of his hand and her determination to root out his problem. Clearly, he wasn't ready to talk, and she couldn't force the issue without pushing him away. "All right. Fair enough, Mr. Gold. You know, you are a man with a lot of layers."

"I am?"

He had been called many things throughout his life, a layered man was far from the worst.

Belle winked, "You're practically an onion." She lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll let you have your secrets. But you have to promise that you'll let me know the next time you need to leave town for so long. I was bored out of my mind with you gone."

Gold nodded. "I will. I promise. Thank you, Belle."

Belle felt a shiver down her back at hearing her name said by his voice, so softly, with _that_ accent. She smiled and leaned in, a conspiring gleam in her eyes. "All right. Now, do you want to hear some of the scandalous gossip that went on while you were away?"

Gold smiled, "Of course, Miss French. Tell me everything."

"Well..."

As Belle went on to tell him of the little happenings about town, whose dog had had a litter of puppies, what new books had come into circulation at the library and the like, Gold was able to relax, the band of tension and anxiety loosening its hold on him.

_Ah..._

The man could feel it happening. Belle was working her magic as she always did, her words, her smile were soothing him, calming him, lifting the darkness that plagued his mind.

By the time they had finished their breakfast, Gold was more settled, more himself.

Belle was so wonderful, so lovely. She made him forget, she made him feel lighter than air, as if his leg had never been ruined, and he was a man still whole. He longed to tell her so many of his truths, but they had not known each other a year, hardly long enough to confide anything of such consequence.

Mentally he took a deep breath, letting his tension fall away, letting his confidence rise to the surface.

 _It will be all right_ , he reassured himself.

Belle forgave him leaving, she was happy to have him back, and he found himself genuinely glad to be back in Storybrooke, to return to the comfort of his familiar routine, antiquing and her visits to the shop.

It was far from what he wanted, none of this was ideal. But if this was all he was granted, Belle, this bittersweet reminder of what he could have, if only he deserved to be happy again, then Gold believed he could go on.

Yes.

He could manage, he could go on with his life as it was.

_It will be all right, it will be all right..._

And things were, following his return. Gold collected the rent, he took in new pieces to restore, he negotiated deals, he traded favors, occasionally he was berated by unhappy clients who had neglected to read one piece of fine print or another, but that meant nothing to him so long as Belle came to visit his shop and his dreams.

On returning to Storybrooke, he'd driven past her apartment, taken with the fear that she would punish him for leaving in some way, but he should have known she wasn't so petty. She hadn't nagged him to reveal the truth, she hadn't made a scene. Instead, she'd been her simple, kind self and, three days after his return, Belle had slipped into the shop near closing time, bearing two bottles of ginger ale. That evening, it was as if he had never left.

Mr. Gold had been forgiven, and he knew that was no small thing.

_______________________________

From there, things went back to normal between them, though Belle and Gold carefully avoided each other around Valentine's Day, unwilling to twist the knife of their own insecurities.

March was uneventful, as spring swept through Storybrooke with bright buttery sunlight and green buds covered every branch in sight. Gold and Belle had reclaimed and even deepened their routine, spending longer and longer amounts of time together, though still largely in secret.

One night during the first week of April found Belle studying the checker board before her, with two distinct strategies dancing in her mind - both would ensure her victory, but both depended on Gold maneuvering his pieces to her advantage and he was far too clever, far too experienced to just hand her a win.

A thunderstorm was raging outside; it was been churning over Storybrooke for days, and the clouds had burst sheets of rain down upon them just an hour ago. Being from Scotland, Gold wasn't bothered by storms, but his companion was happiest with sunny skies.

Belle blinked as the shop was suddenly thrown into darkness, the background hum of electricity and the music of his radio dropping into silence.

"Ah, that ends our game then."

She could just make out his form across the counter from her, and looking past him out the window, Belle could see that the rest of the block had gone dark as well. She was sure that everyone in the other shops were scrambling for flashlights.

This storm had been simmering above them for days, now that it had broken free it had taken half the town's light.

"I was so close to beating you." Belle remarked as she moved off her stool.

"I've heard it said that you're a dreamer, Miss French."

Belle could hear the mocking smirk in his voice with the comment as she wrapped her scarf about her throat. "Give me time, I'll have you."

"I look forward to that." Gold purred. He watched as Belle tightened the colorful scarf over her throat, frowning when she unsnapped her umbrella. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm? I'm getting ready to go." She thought that much was obvious even in the near-dark.

"Alone in this storm? No, I'll drive you."

"You're sure?"

Gold took his keys off the hook on the wall after pulling on his coat. "It's only a few blocks. Just let me lock up here and we'll be on our way."

______________________________

In the narrow garage that connected at the back of the shop's work room, Belle circled his vehicle, taking in every line and detail. It was obviously loved and very well cared for; its deep black coat shined from a recent wash, though it was sure to streak now that he had to drive in the storm.

Gold watched her from the doorway as she looked over his car, and he wasn't sure what she made of it until she turned to him. "I love your car, it suits you."

"Old-fashioned?"

At that, Belle shook her head. "Classic."

"Why, thank you."

"Can I drive?" Belle asked.

Gold fixed her with a stern look, "Keep dreaming."

Never fooled by Gold's attempts to intimidate, Belle flippantly told him, "When I beat you, I want to drive."

Gold gave her a sly look. "Oh, Miss French, _if_ you ever beat me, I'll hand over the title."

Belle only laughed as he opened the garage door and drove them into the darkness.

_______________________________

Gold pulled up beside the small apartment building, masking his disappointment that while several streets had lost power, Belle's block had been spared. Had she been caught without power he would have invited her into his home, let her stay in one of the spare rooms until the grid was restored.

Beside him, Belle looked up from her cell phone. "Oh, good, the power's still on. I was worried I'd have to get dressed in the dark for work tomorrow."

"You're lucky. A few years ago my house had no power for days during a winter storm." Gold told her. He suspected that Regina might have had something to do with the delay, but he'd never voiced the thought on the off-chance that she might be innocent.

Belle did not remark on his comment, instead she slipped her cell phone into her purse and gathered her things. "Do you want to come upstairs?"

Gold blinked, surprised at the invitation but damned if he was going to decline. "Lead the way, Miss French."

Minutes later, Belle quietly lead Gold through the defunct lobby where Charles Allen slept behind the desk. Gold didn't like that; here this man was meant to prevent uninvited people from entering the building, but while he slept anyone could stroll in and rob the tenants.

Gold watched Belle as she walked in front of him toward the bank of elevators - she was so pretty, so tempting and so damn vulnerable, tiny thing that she was. She could be robbed - _or worse!_ \- with him sleeping on the job.

That couldn't happen.

He made a mental note to see about ousting Mr. Allen in favor of someone more alert at the very least. Perhaps Dove might like the job; he could keep an eye on Belle for him, keep him informed of her taking on any...overnight guests. He tensed at the thought.

The elevator ride up to the third floor was short and silent.

Gold followed Belle down a short hallway and then through a chipped red door, and with two steps forward, he found himself in her home.

His eyes took everything in once she turned on the overhead light, hungry for hints of her private life. In the months of their acquaintance, Gold had occasionally wondered about the little flat that Belle called her own. He'd pictured it several different ways, ranging from an eclectic bohemian jewelbox to a layout akin to Victoria's Secret, all pink and gold trim, filled with books rather than lingerie - though Belle's preferences in that regard had certainly crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit.

What he hadn't expected was a near-empty space with nary a stick of furniture and freezing inside. There was a faded plum loveseat set before a low ottoman clearly used as a makeshift coffee table, a flat-screen television mounted on the wall with a long crack bisecting the screen, and a patterned chair near the window with several books stacked beside it on the floor.

Nothing else.

There were no pictures hanging on the stark white walls, no potted plants, no decorative rugs or bowl of goldfish as he'd pictured for her. Near the tiny kitchen there was a folding card table with a tube vase and lone red flower tucked within, and two mismatched chairs, though one had an amount of clean folded laundry resting atop its seat.

It seemed that Belle didn't entertain much.

"I'd thought you lived here for some time, Miss French." He began, voicing his confusion.

Belle glanced away from the little mirror she'd pulled from her purse, alternately smoothing and fluffing her hair back into some semblance of sanity after the wind and rain had done its damage. She looked around, seeing what he was seeing and wondered what he must think of her.

"I have, I just haven't put much of anything toward decorating. I'm saving all my pennies for something big."

Gold raised a brow, curiosity piqued. Perhaps he could help, and for the first time in a very long time, he didn't consider his end of things. "Care to share?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. It's top secret."

"Ah, women and their secrets." Gold remarked as Belle moved past him into the kitchen and began to prepare coffee. The kitchen was as bare as the living room, the only proof that she lived there at all being a Post-It on the counter. Apparently, Belle needed to pick up milk, cereal, eggs and apples.

"Yes, we're such a mysterious bunch."

"That you are." He watched for a moment as she set coffee and a plate of cookies on a tray. "May I help?"

"It's all right, I've got it. Cream or sugar?" She offered.

Gold shook his head, "Black is fine, thank you."

A few minutes later found Gold as content as could be, stripped of his coat and suit jacket, seated on Belle's plum love seat and pleased that she'd chosen to sit with him rather than in the patterned reading chair near the window. Though cold, it was pleasant to be with her there in her home, and he told her so. "This is very nice."

Belle nodded her agreement, thinking he only meant the brew . "Isn't it? I'm exploring so many blends of tea and coffee, I'm practically on a liquid diet."

"You're on a _liquid diet?"_ Gold frowned and set his cup back on the tray. "You don't need to do that, you're lovely as you are."

"My father might disagree with that, but I'm not dieting, just on a little kick. This past winter it was baking. I started out making a few things for Nova's church bake sale and before I knew it I was baking everything I could until I was up to my ears in muffins and cookies."

"I've had your cookies, you've talent in the kitchen." Gold told her, recalling the cookies she'd made him at Christmas. Soft oatmeal raisin, snicker doodles with just the right amount of cinnamon dusted over top, and orange cranberry sugar cookies, a tart summery counterpoint to Maine's harsh winter.

"What about your father?" He asked, recalling her comment.

Belle took a deep breath and said the name, "Moe French." and she need say no more.

She knew that Mr. Gold was not one for loud upsets, yet she was still relieved when all he did in reaction to the news was raise a brow. "Moe French is your father..."

The woman turned her cup around and around in her hands. "I know, that was another of my secrets. Well, it's not really a secret, it's just not a connection I'm proud of." Belle shrugged. "We're not suited, are we?"

"You and he are a bit...at odds." Gold agreed quietly.

_That petty criminal spawned the world's most charming librarian? This world is too strange a place._

"To put it lightly." Belle tried for a joke. "It would be like you having a grunge punk as a daughter."

Gold thought on that. "I never had a daughter."

A missed opportunity, and too late to try again now, but perhaps it was for the best. He couldn't stand grunge rock music.

Beside him, Belle laughed a bit. "Me neither, not yet anyway. Maybe I will tomorrow."

"You want children by tomorrow?" Gold gave her a sly grin. "It sounds like you already have plans for tonight with some lucky man, then. I wouldn't want to intrude so I'll let myself out."

Gold stood in a show to leave, but Belle grabbed his wrist, laughing, and pulled him to sit back down beside her on the loveseat. "You know I was only joking. Don't leave just yet."

Gold shifted on the sofa, looking about the bare space of her apartment, feeling the cold from her lack of reliable heat, and turned to face her fully. "Miss French, do you need anything?"

If Belle would only confide in him what she was saving her money for, if only she would ask, he would give her whatever she needed and more. Who in Storybrooke deserved his generosity, if not Belle French?

The woman seemed to consider his words. There were a million things she needed but only one thing Belle wanted from him. "Your company, Mr. Gold. Stay and watch a movie with me."

"Well-"

"You have somewhere else to be?" She challenged.

"No, I'm - all right, yes, I'll stay." He relented.

Gold resettled on the loveseat and Belle selected a film through her Netflix account.

Belle brought out a blanket from the tiny hall closet and draped it over their laps, then surprised him again when she scooted close and leaned into him. "Do you mind?" She asked. "The heating system won't be back up until tomorrow morning and I'm freezing."

Did he mind that Belle had invited him up to her apartment and cuddled into him for warmth?

Gold shook his head, "No, it's fine. May I...is this all right?" He asked as he leaned back to put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in closer.

Belle cuddled in and tucked her head under his chin. "That's perfect." She sighed. "You make a great heater, Mr. Gold."

"I aim to please, Miss French."

Belle was quick to pull up one of her favorite films, _All About Eve_. She had watched the film many times over the years, loving the costumes, the clever dialogue, and naturally, Bette Davis's stunning delivery of the part. As Margo Channing expounded on the trials of an actress's career, Belle could hardly concentrate. How could she, with Mr. Gold wrapped around her, keeping her warm, enveloping her in the subtle scent of his cologne, with his hand stroking steadily up and down her back like she wasn't just his friend, but a companion lover?

A voice whispered through her that it could always be this way between them, that it _should_ always be this way.

_Yes..._

Gold could come to see her after closing the shop; no more secret visits, no more hiding. It would just be them together, free to explore each other past the simple pleasantries of their covert friendship. She would make them dinner and coffee to share, and afterwards there would be this - him, wrapped around her, enveloping her in his scent and warmth.

Belle's eyes slipped closed, ignoring the film entirely as she pictured it, their perfect little life.

After a few visits over to her apartment, Gold would invite her to his home, that gorgeous Queen Anne on the hill. He would make her dinner, serve her wine, read her something in Gaelic, and after that, he would have her.

Belle nestled in closer to the man, letting the fantasy play out in her mind's eye as he adjusted his hold on her, keeping her secure against him, his hand venturing further to stroke her hair as well. Belle shivered in pleasure at his soft touch, and let the fantasy unfold further.

Would Gold take her into his bedroom and spend hours in gentle exploration of her body, or would he ride her roughly against a wall, bruising her and glorying in the claw marks she would leave up and down his back? Or better yet, why wait until they were at his house when he could take her, right here, right now on the sofa?

Belle relished the scenario and shifted just slightly, pressing her thighs together. _Oh, yes_. She imagined the hand stroking through her hair to slip lower, under her shirt, to her waist so that he could guide her to move over him, until she was straddling his lap. He would kiss her, truly kiss her, and from there his hands would strip her of her clothing and then of all sense as he touched her, ten wicked fingertips playing over her flesh until she shattered atop him.

As Belle slipped to sleep in her heated fantasy, Gold found a slow rhythm, stroking his hand up and down her back before raising his hand to touch her hair. He sighed in contentment, as peaceful as he'd been in an age. She was a soft weight against him, the mingling scents of her shampoo and perfume drifting over him and lovesick fool that he was, he hoped her scent would cling to his shirt after he left her apartment.

How long had it been since he'd had this? The warmth of a woman nestled against him, the intimacy of just holding another person...he knew it wasn't healthy, what he had done to himself over the years. He was broken. Something inside of him had surrendered years ago, given up on the idea of happiness because he didn't believe he deserved a second chance.

The man had closed himself off from others, pouring his focus into his businesses. It wasn't about amassing wealth and power, being the big fish lording over a small pond - it was about finding ways to ignore the wound in his chest. Business had been his solution, the perfect way to barricade himself from other people.

It was constant; unending in its need for precise wording on paper, each transaction a precise puzzle built on _quid pro quo_ and integrity between two parties.

Gold had spent the past two decades feeding this obsession to distract from his past, and though Storybrooke was a quiet, sleepy little town, he had ferreted out every business opportunity that he could.

Buildings for sale, contracts and leases that had lead to favors, the east coast niche of antique dealing and the routes to buy, sell and trade throughout the country.

Now, though, it was Belle moving into the void he'd carried for so long. She was so lovely, so lively and kind.

The man hadn't been able to hide from the feelings she stirred, the warmth inside he'd thought banished beyond recovery. _Gold wanted her._ He closed his eyes, picturing her waiting for him atop the sheets of his bed, wet and willing, wearing nothing but the topaz earrings he'd gifted to her.

Suddenly curious, Gold carefully pulled her hair back, satisfied to see that, yes, she was wearing the earrings now.

But the woman was alseep and he was awash with guilt. He couldn't do this, think of her that way while she slept beside him, so vulnerable and open. It was far too tempting: he could kiss her so softly that she'd never even know, he could let his hand wander to stroke her breasts or thighs...

But how sick would it be to violate her that way? How sick was he to even think of such things?

He needed to leave.

Gold moved, shifting under her and taking his arm from around her shoulders. "Miss French, I must go."

Belle woke and stretched her arms out before her. "Oh, must you?" She asked through a yawn.

"Afraid so, any longer and I'll fall asleep too." Gold replied as he retrieved his cane and stood from the sofa.

"Speak for yourself, I wasn't asleep."

"No, you were just resting your eyes and breathing deeply. And talking to yourself." He teased.

"I was not!"

"Mmm..."

"All right, fine. Get going, but before you go take some of these with you." Belle slipped into the dark corner of her kitchen and reappeared just as quickly with a plastic container of fresh muffins - blueberry, strawberry-banana and apple cinnamon. "Just what the doctor ordered. Take with milk or tea twice a day to relieve irritability stemming from job-related stress."

He raised a brow. "And who says I'm stressed?"

"I'm sure keeping the town on its toes can wear on you after awhile."

Gold took the container from her after pulling on his jacket and then his coat. "Thank you. You're always feeding me."

Belle walked him to the door. "Well, someone should be looking after you."

Gold shrugged, thinking on that. "Ah. Not for some time now. Good night Miss French, I'll see you soon."

Belle watched as he moved downstairs and out into the night.

______________________________

Gold stepped into the house, grateful that the grid was intact on his side of town. Limping about in the dark had no appeal. Locking the door behind himself, he set his keys and the Tupperware container on the kitchen counter. Briefcase and coat secured in the narrow hall closet, Gold reentered the kitchen and pondered the treats Belle had sent home with him.

One dozen large muffins, four of each flavor - blueberry, apple cinnamon and strawberry-banana. He'd thanked her for them and remarked on her habit of bringing him food. If it wasn't a new tea blend she'd found then it would be lunch to share in the back of his shop; it must be as she said, that she liked looking after him. Perhaps she was in the midst of her own infatuation.

He would know, he'd been harboring feelings for her for several months now. It had been too easy to fall for her, though he couldn't see what she saw in him...if anything. He must be humoring himself. More like he was reading too much into a few kind gestures from his friend, feeding himself desperate hope where there was none. Gold knew she cared, he'd made that easy enough for her because she never had cause to see his dark side. He was only ever pleasant and polite with her, opening himself up to her offer of genuine friendship.

Now her father...that was a different story, how had he not known of their relation?

Gold shook his head and chose an apple cinnamon muffin from the container, pairing it with a cup of milk at the kitchen table. It didn't matter to him who her father was. For as long as he had known Belle, he had thought of them as two separate people who just happened to share a common enough last name, and he would go right on thinking just that.

Gold took a bite of the muffin, relishing the moist cake and the subtle sweet spice. Belle was such a talent in the kitchen but he had yet to return any of her favors. He should invite her over for lunch, why not? She'd invited him to spend a few hours at her home, so there was nothing to stop him from doing the same now. He took another bite and thought on that. He could invite her over, cook her something wonderful and then take her right on the kitchen counter-

No, no, that wouldn't do.

 _Not on her first visit, that is._ Gold smirked to himself.

 _The bedroom_ , he decided. _Yes_. His bedroom for their first time. He could not carry her inside, damn his leg, but he could guide her into his room, he could lay her down, undress her slowly and pour every year of his experience into loving her because Belle was a woman who so deserved to be loved. He knew how to please a woman and he would double, triple his efforts to please Belle. To have her panting, writhing, screaming, either beneath him or atop him, _oh yes._

Yes, he could please her...but then what?

After they were sated of their passions and curiosity, what then? She would return to her library and he to his shop...he could see no future for them beyond that. Maybe they would carry on their affair in secret for a few weeks but the dirty thrill of it would wear off quickly for her. She would want more than he could give, it was only natural for a young woman in her prime; she would want marriage and children, just not with him.

It would only be a matter of time before Belle felt the urge to move on to something, someone, who could provide her with a real future.

What use would she have for him? He would just be a mistake made on the road to her happy ending.

The muffin Belle had made for him was suddenly bitter, its flavor fading to ashes in his mouth. Gold threw what remained of it in the trash and limped off to bed.


	11. Sketches

After Mr. Gold left her apartment, Belle looked over the space and tried to see it through his eyes. Her faded furniture, so cheap and mismatched. Her lack of decorations. He hadn't insulted her but his question had embarassed her a little. Belle had been in the apartment for years, but to him it must've looked like she'd only just moved in that week.

Well, he hadn't seen her bedroom.

 _Pity about that._ Belle smiled slyly to herself. _Maybe next time._

She leaned against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other as she took in the sight of her room. A nightstand to the right of her bed housed her jewelry box. Mr. Gold's earrings and her mother's necklace were surrounded inside by cheap costume jewelry, all she could ever afford, and real gems had never been a priority anyway.

Beside the box was an alarm clock, and then beside that was a stack of three novels she'd checked out for herself: _The Hunger Games, The Catastrophist_ and _The Merry Muses_ , last checked out by a certain Mr. Gold himself. Stupid, but she'd kept it to herself after his return, running her fingertips over his scrawled signature on the check-out card in the back of the book every time she opened it to read a poem.

Decorations adorned her walls. A corkboard covered with candid pictures, group selfies taken with her friends throughout the years; a colorful Mardi Gras mask; a framed print of a prairie landscape was hung over her bed; and just for kicks, she'd lined her window with a string of gold Christmas lights.

Her bed was covered with an inviting burgundy comforter and several puffed pillows. It was a lonely bed. Belle hadn't had a man in over a year and she worried that loneliness was starting to show.

Hell, she'd practically climbed into Mr. Gold's lap as soon as they'd sat down to the film. She had to have made him uncomfortable in some way. Given that he was so formal, he must have only agreed to heat her out of pity and then changed his mind once it breached his sense of modesty.

It wasn't as if he'd read her mind and known she'd been imagining him taking her on the sofa, after all, but something must have triggered his departure aside from the late hour.

Perhaps he just wanted to get on back to his own house, that mansion with the audacious color. The proof of her poverty might have warned him away, but Belle knew the truth. It had to have been the revelation of her parentage. Her father was a liar and a cheat.

And Belle was his only child.

It was a close connection, no matter that she had made an effort to distance herself from the man; Moe French was still her father, and Mr. Gold knew that now. God only knew what he thought of her now that he possessed that knowledge.

"Sins of the father," Belle grumbled before she put herself to bed.

She was restless that night, and for several nights following.

______________________________

A new urgency in her work schedule kept Belle and Gold apart for over two weeks after the night of the storm. Game of Thorns had come calling, with the shop coming up too short to cover its bills and the wages of the few other workers they had.

It had fallen to Belle again and, doormat that she was, she had gone on a mad scramble for money. She'd worked the library, the flower shop, she'd worked a few shifts in the kitchen of Granny's and the Sweet Tooth bakery.

Shane had caught her after she'd paid the last damn bill for Game of Thorns and ensured that the other two workers' paychecks wouldn't bounce on deposit. She'd been walking back to her apartment, her feet sore from standing and rushing all over Storybrooke, her body tired, her belly growling, resenting her deadbeat father, her own weak nature where he was concerned, resentful of her girlfriends for their mundane problems, resentful of Mr. Gold for his being so changeable and just angry at the whole world.

Shane had chased her down the street, approaching her to ask after a new flower order for his store, but on catching her mood, knew that Belle needed a friend more than she'd needed a customer. His order could wait.

The man was charming, and so he'd charmed Belle into taking him up to her apartment. He'd forced her to sit and rest on the loveseat while he made dinner for them to share. The man wasn't a gifted cook, but it didn't take a genius to boil noodles.

Soon, he'd set her card table for two, and served her before serving himself. Catching sight of the coiled silk flower she'd left in a tube vase, it looked like they were on a date.

"Just like high school, remember when I took you to the Olive Garden? I was so nervous."

Belle shook her head, knowing his hope that a pleasant memory would dispel her present worries.

Damn Shane if it wasn't working.

Belle smiled. "You almost spilled my Coke that night."

"You would have been nervous too, given the situation." He reminded her. "But I got a kiss that night from the cutest girl in school."

Good times, so long ago now. Most of the people they'd known in high school had moved away or married, were raising children or building lucrative careers. It seemed that even among those who had stayed in Storybrooke, Belle was the only one floundering and it wasn't _fair._

It wasn't fair that her father, her damn father, was so determined on holding her back. If it wasn't for him, Belle wouldn't be so pitiful, holed up in a bare apartment, constantly struggling to make ends meet and in love with the richest bastard in town.

Why was it that _everything_ , everything she wanted seemed so far out of reach?

But Shane didn't know of her connection to Mr. Gold, no one did, and she could hardly confide that frustration to him now. Belle took a deep breath and tried not to let it sound like the depressed sigh it truly was.

It would be all right when she could see Mr. Gold again, she knew it would. The man was a reprieve from her troubles in the real world, she craved the peaceful time alone with him like a drug, and she needed her fix.

Shane nudged her foot under the table as he twirled spaghetti on his fork.

"You're up and down town, running yourself ragged looking for work. When will things even out for you?" He asked. His eyes were warm, he was concerned for her. All her friends were.

Belle shrugged and let out a slight groan. It was different for Shane. He'd inherited his business after his father died, leaving him holding the reigns of a company that he'd been a part of since high school. Their family jewelry store had already been firmly established and stable, with other locations throughout the state.

Belle tried not to begrudge Shane his position, especially since he'd only taken over when his father's cancer had overwhelmed the man, but it was difficult to delve into her struggle with someone who hadn't had to share it.

"My plan is to stay with the library until Mullins leaves. Once the library has been open for about a year, I should be put in charge of it. When I'm full time, I'll have regular hours and I can stop all the odd jobs, and that includes working at Game of Thorns."

Shane sipped at the wine he'd brought over for dinner, a strong red, though Belle didn't know much about wine. It was all sour grape juice to her, no matter red or white or whatever year it'd been bottled. She didn't care. She was just grateful for his gift of alcohol.

"And what'll happen to the shop?" He asked.

Belle shrugged, careless, because she truly didn't care for the shop. "Without me to lean on, the place will probably shut down in a matter of months. It started that I would help out once a week, you know, check on inventory and the books, but dad has just gotten worse, and now I'm scrambling just to keep it open. I don't know why I've let it get this far. I have a hard time saying no when dad asks for help. He's such a bastard, he always brings up my mother."

Shane tensed. "I'm sorry. I'd buy the shop if I could afford it, but with the economy the way it is, I'm struggling to keep the whole chain from dipping under."

Belle knew that, and she didn't want her friend to feel obligated to swoop in and save her. That was Shane, though, a knight ready to save every damsel in town in spite of his private life.

"I'd never ask you to do that. You have your own stores to worry over, and you don't know anything about flowers anyway." She teased him. "Once I'm secure, I'll let the chips fall where they may. It won't be two months before Mr. Gold closes in and shuts it down. He won't take my father's excuses, he's stronger than I am."

Shane nodded. His father had dealt with Mr. Gold for years, and he had spotted him in his best black at the funeral, paying his respects. He remembered that day too well. Belle had been with him, holding his hand, and Marcus had been there too, trying to be strong for them both even though Marcus had cried heavily because he'd loved Shane's father like his own.

There had never been cause to mention it, but when Shane had approached Mr. Gold after the funeral, after being thrust into his father's position and facing a horrible new world without his father in it, Mr. Gold had done the most unexpected thing.

"Your father was a good man," he'd said. "I see a lot of him in you. I understand that it will be a transition with you finding your feet at the helm. I'll forgo the rent on your shop in town for three months in exchange for a foot in the door of the world of gemstones."

Shane had been very grateful for this boon. It had been both a tribute to his father and a very generous favor to him. Gold's entrance into the gem market had been such a trifle that it had barely registered as a trade. Shane had benefitted from both ends of the exchange, the rare deal that hadn't strictly gone in Mr. Gold's favor.

"You're right." He agreed. "Mr. Gold is a stone cold businessman. He only cuts favors for a few people in town and Moe French will never be one of them. Not after, well, you know, the _incident."_

The incident in question had to do with her father, on one of his classic whiskey benders, finding his way into the mayor's backyard one night and ripping up flowers, bushes and breaking off a branch of her apple tree, not to mention scaring her son with his hollering rant. Mr. Gold had happened to be in the mayor's house at the time and had come out to stop him, receiving a black eye for his trouble. Mayor Mills had seen to it that Belle's father was nearly locked away for assault, public intoxication and destruction of private property, but something had stayed her hand, and luckily Moe had never so much as approached the Mayor's street again.

Belle nodded, remembering it very well. She'd been sure her petition for the library would be rejected the second the mayor laid eyes on her last name, but in the end it hadn't been the mayor's decision. Mr. Gold hadn't known until she'd told him their relation.

Mr. Gold knew who she was connected to and, despite their friendship, deep down Belle feared it would only be a matter of time before he ended things with her because of that. Mr. Gold wouldn't be the first friend that her father had cost her.

"I hope he does," Belle said. "I hope Mr. Gold shuts it down the day I take over the library."

"He'll snap it up and something else will be in it's place by the next month." Shane agreed. "So, you'll be better off by this summer, you think?"

Belle nodded. "By this summer, I _pray."_

In a very twisted way, Belle's prayers would be answered.

Shane lifted his glass and Belle tapped hers against it in a cheers salute. "I am running ragged and I'm so sick of it, Shane. It's like, I'll get ahead and as soon as I do, someone from Game will call and let me know that the money for the shop bills has disappeared, or their paychecks won't go through at the bank. So I have to go over and pitch in just to make up for whatever my father screwed up or stole - oh, excuse me, _borrowed."_ She amended bitterly.

Shane grit his teeth at her words. He'd known her father was a cheat, it had never been a secret, even back when they'd met in high school. But enough was enough - Belle had been stifled for years because she loved the man, and at what cost to herself?

He reached across the table to take her hand in his. How was it that a girl so small had taken on such big burdens?

"Belle, I've loved you for years, you know that. You've done an amazing thing, getting the library opened, I mean I still don't know how the place went from being just another citizen petition to open to the public in only a few months. But it's not fair that you have to work your hands to the bone for someone who couldn't care less."

Shane's words were home truths, she knew, but they still hurt. Her father was a mess, and though he caused her no end of frustration, she remembered how good things used to be. Belle still loved him, he was the only family she had left. Damn her tender heart.

"I know. I just want things to be different." Belle said quietly.

"Is that what you're really working toward? A vision of life where it's all different? Where your dad gets his life together, where you have the library and everyone is happy?"

"You sound like Dr. Hopper." Belle muttered around a mouthful of meatballs.

Shane paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "You're in therapy?"

"Not really." Belle shook her head. "I mean, a few years ago I scheduled a family therapy session for my father and I...but dad didn't show up-"

"Big surprise."

"-so Dr. Hopper and I started talking. He was the one who advised me to move out, he said that putting some distance between us would be the healthy thing to do. But getting out on my own brought on all of my own bills, stretching my budget, and then Game needed more and more help, and now here we are." Belle huffed.

Shane hated seeing her like this, all because she lacked the nerve to refuse her waste of a father. "Come on, Belle, you're only here because you can't cut ties from daddy. I mean, imagine what you could do without him weighing you down. Hell, you could get some decent furniture in here for a start."

Belle frowned at his mentioning her bare apartment. Perhaps she should go out and splurge on a few pictures for the walls if only to stop the annoying comments.

She hated it, but there was nothing in her that was strong enough to cut off her only remaining family. "I know. But you of all people know what it's like to lose someone before the issues between you can be resolved. I'll give up on the flower shop, but I can't give up on my father."

"That was a low blow, bringing up my dad." Shane told her, but there was no anger in his voice. "They're apples and oranges."

"Funny you should mention fruit." Belle snarked.

"Hmm?"

"Our dessert of course." She winked. She was desperate to change subjects from her family and financial struggles, and sweets were the perfect thing to distract her friend. "You made me a delicious dinner, so I can handle the dessert. I'm thinking fruit with chocolate and caramel drizzle, or you can just dip it in the cream."

"Strawberries and cream? That's the sexiest dessert. Belle, you're trying to seduce me." Shane deduced, his voice growing deeper.

Belle shrugged. "Maybe just a bit."

"I'm all yours, whatever you need." He took her hand again, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You know that."

"Thank you. Do you want to stay and watch a film?"

"That depends, will you wear that nightie I got you for your birthday?" Shane asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Belle swatted his arm. "You are so bad!"

"Would it be better if I said please?"

She eyed him, draining her wine. "It's a start."

______________________________

The next morning, Belle woke when Shane rolled over in bed next to her. He'd thrown an arm over her waist and, in his half-asleep state, pulled her close and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to inhale her scent.

Breathing her in, Shane opened his eyes, raised himself onto an elbow and looked down at her. "Sorry, I forgot where I was for a second."

Belle rolled onto her back to face him. She lifted a hand and touched his face, stroking through his dark hair, absently tugging on the sleeve of his t-shirt. "It's all right. Thank you for staying. I just...needed someone to hold me, I guess. Is that wrong?"

Shane dropped down onto her, pillowing his head on her breast as she went on stroking through his hair. The smooth satin of her gifted nightie was heated by her skin, it was black just like his shirt and boxer briefs. They often did that, matching their clothes without even trying.

"No. It's all right. I'm here for whatever you need, Belle, you know that." Shane loved lazy mornings in bed, resting against a warm body, being pet like a sleepy, spoiled dog. But he was a dog with responsibilities. "I'd stay here all day if I could, but I have to go to work."

"I know. I'm working tonight in Granny's kitchen."

Shane raised his head. "They've got you scrubbing dishes back there?"

"Yes." Belle closed her eyes. "Shane?"

"Hmm?"

"I want Mr. Gold to step in and close the shop. Today. I wouldn't fight him to try keeping it open, I'd let him have it. Without the shop, without me to use as a crutch, maybe my father will get his life together. Maybe things will be better."

"It could happen." Shane told her quietly.

He didn't believe that for one second. Moe wouldn't turn his life around just because the flower shop, his main source of cash, was out of the picture. He'd already used every trick there was to exploit Belle for whatever gain he could, and he'd never stop. He'll just keep sniffing around for cash, and it'll only get worse once Belle has the library to herself.

Shane knew this, and he was sure that, deep down, Belle knew it too. She was grasping at a false hope to keep from losing hope all together.

Belle sighed beneath him.

"I need to go."

"I know. Shane, just a few more minutes?" She asked. It was a plea, and he couldn't deny her comfort when she needed it. Hell, that's why he was in her bed, after all.

"All right. Just a few more."

______________________________

Twenty minutes later found Belle walking with her arm looped through Shane's, heading back toward the apartment he shared with Marcus. He'd texted the other man the night before to let him know he'd chosen to stay with Belle, and again before they left to let him know to expect them both shortly. Marcus had texted back, asking that they come see him at his store instead.

Even as early as it was, not yet nine, Marcus had greeted them happily from under the hood of the Mustang once they neared his storefront's garage.

He'd only opened his auto-parts store for about a month, but business was already doing well. He was his own boss, and the time not spent in the store was spent tinkering with the dream machine. He'd made as many adjustments as he could to the engine to ensure it would run smoothly, the only things left to attend to were largely cosmetic.

"We can't take her out just yet. Give me another month, and she'll be ready." Marcus said on greeting them.

"I can't wait, it already looks amazing." Belle smiled. She didn't know much about cars, but anyone could see that Marcus was a master at work, the Mustang would be his pride and joy.

"Thanks, babe." He said, coming in close and kissing her cheek, shooting Shane a mischievous look as he did so.

It was a game they played when around any of the women in their circle of friends, trying to make each other jealous by fawning all over the females. Ruby especially enjoyed the extra male attention, never mind that it was just for show.

"When it's finished, that front seat will be just for you, Belle." Marcus had gently backed her up against the hood of the car, leaning over her, for all appearances priming himself to take her on top of the vehicle. That was a fantasy of his, but he doubted Belle would indulge him. "Shane can catch the bus."

Very familiar with their flirty games, Belle drew her arms about Marcus's neck, letting him twirl her and set her back on her feet. "I'd hate to come between you boys."

"Come between us? Now there's a thought." Marcus grinned nastily and, as Shane watched, slipped his hand down to rest lightly on the curve of her rear.

"You're filthy, Marcus." Belle sneered, pulling out of his light hold. He was as harmless to her as Shane, she knew, but his innuendos could often cross the line.

"You love it." He called after her as she rolled her eyes and said goodbye to the pair, blowing them kisses as she doubled back in the direction of her apartment.

Distracted as she was, thinking over the errands and chores she needed to finish before her shift at Granny's, Belle didn't realize that Gold had opened his shop and seen everything.

______________________________

It was another few days before Gold was visited by Belle, and in all truth he was grateful for the extended break from her company after seeing her walking with Shane, their arms linked for the town to see.

The woman was his friend, she was his pleasure and his pain. He had long ago learned how to exist in the world with pain. He got on as easily as he could with a broken heart. The pleasure her company brought him far outweighed the torture of knowing she had a man in her sheets.

Gold did the only thing in his power to do. He did his best to put it from his mind.

With the chime of the bell, Mr. Gold set his latest tinkering aside and emerged into the shop proper from behind the curtain. He'd had his share of customers already, the day being busier than usual. So far he'd sold a crystal compass, a fountain pen, pawned a bracelet and dealt with an art collector from Vermont who was interested in one of Gold's paintings held only for serious bidding.

When he saw that it was Belle approaching the counter, he could hardly wait to tell her about his day. _Nothing has to change,_ he reassured himself. _We can still have this._

Gold eyed the large shopping bag hanging in the crook of her arm. He hadn't been inside the store in years, but he recognized the label for Victoria's Secret. "You have my attention."

Belle shook her head. "No lingerie in here, sorry." She reached inside and began to withdraw Tupperware containers to illustrate her point.

"That's disappointing."

"You won't think so after you have one of my sandwiches."

Gold was content as he dug into the sandwich that Belle had brought over, truly she had missed her calling as a chef. Belle had taken his compliment in stride, making a crack about being too kind to put Granny's diner out of business.

It was just on the tip of his tongue then, an offer to repay her generosity by bringing her out for a meal, never mind her new man. They deserved time to themselves. Somewhere out of town where they could relax and enjoy each other's company without the worry of rumors erupting after they were seen sharing a table. Somewhere other than the cheap diner where the entire town came to grab a bite. He owed Belle more than iced tea and an overcooked hamburger. Champagne and oysters came to mind.

"Miss French, you've brought me lunch several times, let me take you-"

"Gold!"

Gold winced as he heard the infuriated screech coming from the shop. It wasn't Regina this time, but another woman who had reason for anger. Sighing in annoyance, Gold gestured for Belle to wait for him while he dealt with the intrusion into their meal.

Belle was well accustomed to this by now, his polite request that she remain out of sight while he dealt with business. She was his secret and didn't mind it much, especially when it gave her the opportunity to explore the back room of the shop when he left her alone.

She gulped down the last of her Sprite and set her can aside, tuning out the abuse hurled at Mr. Gold - apparently whoever the woman was couldn't make her repayment for the third month in a row and he had called in her collateral. Belle couldn't blame him - she was very careful with her money to avoid just such a fix. Her eyes fell on a book at his desk and she couldn't help her curiosity as she flipped the cover.

Belle's brows hit her hairline as she paged through his sketches and she found familiar faces. There was Mayor Mills seated behind a desk with several papers on the surface before her. The detailing was precise; her dark eyes were as fierce on the page as they were in life, her smirking mouth the only color in the sketch, a deep berry. Belle supposed he preferred her in that shade of lipstick.

The next few pages showed the woman, some were cartoonish, complete with word bubbles of Mayor Mills barking orders around town, while others were simple, showing her posing in a chair or tending to her beloved apple tree. In one picture, Mayor Mills was dressed in her signature black, her form dissolving into a flock of ravens.

The following pages showed Dr. Whale, his expression deeply serious in his scrubs and white lab coat, then smiling in a more casual leather jacket and jeans. Sharing the page with him was Dr. Hopper, umbrella in hand and Pongo leashed at his side.

He'd drawn Marcus standing beside the still-white Mustang, his hands black with engine grime and a triumphant smile on his handsome face. Shane was on the next page, though Mr. Gold must've had a difficult time drawing him, as his face was scribbled out, some with an X drawn over half-finished sketches.

There was Leroy hunched at Granny's counter over a beer, and there again toward the bottom half of the page, hefting his pickaxe and lighted helmet, his expression eager and determined to strike riches in the mines just outside of town.

A page was dedicated to Ruby, showing her in various stances at the diner: full shots of her holding a tray of milkshakes, jotting down an order on her stenopad, then bussing a table. Belle couldn't help but notice that Mr. Gold had used some artistic license by adjusting her waitress uniform; he'd lowered her hemline and closed the top of her shirt so it didn't show quite so much skin, which Belle was thankful for. He'd drawn Ruby with pointed ears and a furry tail coming out the back of her skirt in one of his funny cartoon-style doodles.

And then there was Belle herself.

Belle's eyes widened. Gold had pencil sketched her with striking detail, wearing one of her favored outfits that she immediately recognized: a slim shirtdress cinched with a leather belt and her matching espadrilles. Like the other pages that filled the sketchbook, Gold had drawn her in a number of ways, from the detailed pencil sketch to cartoon doodles and then, beautifully detailed drawings colored with map pencils and oil pastels.

Then there she was behind the circulation desk, a word bubble declaring, "Welcome to the Storybrooke Library, my name is Belle!"

There she was in a pale blue dress, looking down demurely with a book in her hand.

In one, Belle held the Egyptian scarab in her hands before her with her eyes closed, offering it to whoever viewed the drawing. Gold had crowned her with a serpentine headpiece and to her surprise, she couldn't discern herself as wearing any clothing in the drawing, though it was difficult to tell as the scarab took up so much space before her as to dominate the page. Perhaps that was Mr. Gold's intent, for her to be assumed naked behind the scarab. She wasn't offended by such a thing - the drawing was beautiful and so tastefully done.

The next was in colored pencil and showed her with a Grecian necklace she didn't recognize draped about her neck, a toga of pale lavender draping her body, showing her curves.

Belle quickly pulled out her cell phone and captured the sketches. They were wonderful, all of them, and she felt chagrined to have never known of Mr. Gold's talent.

The only sketches that concerned her were the last few pages that showed a boy Belle didn't recognize, but then again she didn't know every child in town. Maybe he was one of Mary Margaret's students, or maybe one of the other teachers would know his face. Belle wondered why Mr. Gold would draw pictures of children at all, let alone of one boy over and over again, but the simplest answer was usually the right one: he was practicing.

"Miss French?"

Belle turned around, closing his sketchbook as she did to hide that she'd been snooping. His drawings were beautiful, though if he'd meant to share them, he would have by now, she knew.

But she hadn't been fast enough, the look on the man's face was proof enough of that. Belle was glad that he didn't look angry with her. Instead, he looked nervous, caught-out, and sudden color was flooding his face, dark stains over his cheekbones.

"You saw my book..."

"Yes, I'm sorry for looking. I saw it lying there and I thought it was a novel."

Mr. Gold looked down at the floor, his grip tight on the handle of his cane. When he spoke, his voice was hesitating and small. "You saw, then? What I've drawn?"

Belle took a step forward. "Yes. Mr. Gold, I didn't know you were so talented."

He lifted his head. "Talented?"

"Yes, of course!" Belle took up his sketchbook again. "The detail, the different materials you've used. I mean, me, I can't draw a straight line. No, I can't even draw a crooked line!" She scoffed. "But _you,_ Mr. Gold, you've drawn us so precisely, and in all these different styles. I could recognize almost everyone, you're a real artist."

Mr. Gold straightened his posture, relief in his expression but his eyes still held embarrassment, both at her praise and at being found out.

 _I should have kept it in the safe_ , he thought. He hadn't meant for anyone to see his work in the pages. He felt vulnerable, now, something he could hardly stand.

"I'd thought you'd be upset."

"Why would I be upset that you've drawn my picture? If anything I'm upset that you've kept this talent all to yourself." Belle told him, impressed beyond measure.

Was there anything that Mr. Gold couldn't do?

"Well, I...it's nothing serious. Just a side hobby." He dismissed.

"Well it might not be serious to you, but it's wonderful to me. Will you draw my picture?" She asked eagerly.

Gold raised a brow at her request. "What, now? I could do a sketch, but there isn't time for a proper drawing."

Belle checked her watch. She had to get back to the library within ten minutes. "You're right, I have to be getting back to work. But don't think I'll just forget about this. You owe me a drawing the next time I come round."

Gold gave her a small smile. "And you'll get it, Miss French."

______________________________

The next day, Belle was happy to see Mr. Gold enter the library. She smiled in his direction but she was wrapped up with a short line of check-outs. He nodded to her and disappeared into the stacks.

Belle went after him, feeling a bit giddy to chase him like a teenager to their secret spot. She found him waiting for her with a book tucked under his arm, standing at the corner of non-fiction and reference.

"What've you got there?" She asked, meaning the book he held.

Gold held it out to show her. "Gemstone reference. I have a piece up for restoration and need this to exact the difference between garnet and ruby. They look about the same to me, but I need to get it right."

Belle nodded, "Of course. Is it a piece I've seen before?"

He shook his head. "You have not."

Together, they emerged from the endless bookshelves and headed to the main desk. Belle batted her lashes at him, flirting. "And may I come by the shop to see whatever it is?"

Gold leaned in and slid a folded piece of paper across the desk to her hand. "Come tonight. I haven't forgotten what I owe you, Miss French."

Mr. Gold took the book and left the library. Belle looked down at the paper he'd given her, and smiled. It was one of his drawings, more a doodle, really, of Belle on a pair of roller skates speeding down the street. She loved it and tacked it to the wall in the office she shared with Mrs. Mullins.

The funny drawing was Gold's way of offering her a taste of what was to come that night.

_All right, Mr. Gold, I'm ready for more._

______________________________

Evening came, and Belle made straight for Mr. Gold's pawn shop. He smiled thinly to see her come in, and motioned for her to follow him. Gold held the curtain to let Belle pass into the back room before him. "I thought to draw your face, if I may. For a start. I can do a full form sketch if you'd prefer. Bodies are easier."

He was surprised at how relaxed he'd felt after Belle had found her way into his art. He'd always been able to draw, and had put his observations about town to paper in a pleasant distraction when he needed a break from surly clients.

As his feelings for Belle began to grow, so too had his collection of sketches. Now that she knew of his talent with a pencil, he felt relieved and proud, somehow. Yes, proud. She was impressed with his antique collections and his skills.

He stopped short of letting himself feel superior to her man - going down that road would only darken his mood.

"Mr. Gold, draw me like one of your French girls." Belle ordered in a breathy voice, batting her lashes and arching her back.

Gold swallowed at her suggestive pose, feeling familiar heat beginning to rise in his chest. "You are the only French girl I know."

"You've never seen Titanic, have you?" Belle asked, disappointed that he hadn't caught her allusion.

"No. I was unattached when it hit the theaters and was spared being dragged to see it."

"Well nevermind. It was just a joke, in the movie the woman asks to be drawn naked by an artist who drew French girls that way."

Gold raised a brow, smirking at her. "Don't tempt me."

Belle put a hand over her heart, the back of her other hand against her forehead in a mockery of being scandalized by his words. "Oh, Mr. Gold, you mustn't say such things! My virgin ears are burning!"

Gold laughed at her. "I see you've been reading your share of bodice-rippers, I thought you couldn't stand them."

"You caught me. I got curious about what had the reading circle so obsessed and took a peek...which turned into three novels in the past week." She confessed, embarrassed.

Gold shook his head, "Miss French, I'm not angry. Just disappointed."

Belle faked swiping a tear from her cheek. "I am ashamed, but my depravity can't be helped." She clapped her hands together and turned to him. "Now, where do you want me?"

_Anywhere. Everywhere. So long as you're with me._

"Ah, right here should do." Gold guided her to a cushioned chair so that she'd be comfortable as she sat for him, then lit candles and placed them on a low shelf near to her. When he cut the florescent lights over the workroom, the effect cast her face half in the golden light and half in shadow.

Seeing her in candlelight was lovely, and pulled at his heart, but he shut out such thoughts and tried to think of her as just another subject to be drawn

Gold sat on his work stool just across from her, paper and pencil on hand to capture her.

"And if you could just look straight at me, please."

"No problem." Belle locked eyes with him, trying to hide the heat she felt rising through her chest and cheeks. Being shut in alone with Mr. Gold, candlelight casting his face half in the dark...well, Belle was sure her mind would find its way back to this scene tonight, only Mr. Gold would oblige by stripping her and drawing her in the nude before having her on the desk.

Belle was heating to the fantasy, and gave very serious thought to daring the man to remove her shirt, baring her breasts to be drawn. She shifted on the chair, pressing her thighs together.

"Just be still. And no chatter." He warned teasingly.

Belle bit her tongue to stop a smart comment, but she held still, her eyes on his as he worked, repeatedly looking from her and then back to his paper to draw. For a time, he just stared at her. Belle looked back at him. She could see a flash of heat in his eyes, but Gold blinked and returned to his work.

"There, I've finished." Gold tore the sheet from his notebook and passed it to her. "What do you think?"

Belle took the drawing. Gold remained seated, he did not move to turn on the lights. The candles were the only light in the room, and he preferred it this way with her.

Belle looked at Mr. Gold's drawing of her face, the play of shadow over her bone structure, the intensity he'd captured in her eyes. Inside, something broke, and Belle couldn't hold back the tears that escaped her eyes.

Surprised, Gold leaned forward. "Miss French, what's wrong? If you don't like it, let me try again."

Belle shook her head, "I just...I've never seen myself as beautiful until now." She confessed.

She had been called beautiful before, of course, by her father on a good day in the past, by her mother's choice of her name. But she hadn't believed it. She thought of herself as cute and pretty, and with the right makeup and the right clothes, she could even look sexy.

But beauty, real beauty...that had been something reserved for those who deserved it.

Gold didn't know what to say to her confession. So many words jumped to the forefront of his mind, but his throat closed and none escaped out to reassure her that _yes,_ damn it, yes, she was beautiful, she was smart, she was kind and bright and wonderful and he would hunt down and kill whoever had ever made her doubt herself.

"You are. You are beautiful."

It was a hoarse whisper when it emerged, a small and strangled thing. But it was there, the barest hint of the truth he felt. Gold reached forward and touched her hand.

"Thank you Mr. Gold." Belle swiped at a tear that escaped her eye, more embarassed now than anything else. "I'm sorry for this."

Gold gave her his pocket square. "Miss French, what's wrong? If I may, you've seemed troubled the last few times I've seen you. I know you're trying to hide it. I should have asked after you sooner, but I'll ask now. What can I do?"

"Oh, it...it's nothing. Maybe I'm pregnant." Belle said in an offhand way, trying to deflect his concern for her with a joke. Her careless words had the exact opposite effect.

Gold went very still. For a horrible moment, the world went dark.

Belle with a man. Not him.

Belle with child. Not his.

"Oh, relax Mr. Gold, it's not yours." Belle jokingly reassured him, unsure of the color draining from his face.

"Belle, the truth now. Are you...?"

The use of her true name meant he was serious. He had only said it once or twice in the course of their friendship. Belle shook her head. "No, definitely not. I'd need a man for that, and who would have me? Everyone knows I come with some baggage. I only cried because I've been under some stress. Things aren't going well."

Gold took a calming breath, hoping it would settle his erratic pulse. "Things have ended with Mr. Garrison?"

"Hmm?"

Gold shook his head, "I shouldn't have brought it up, I apologize. I didn't mean to bring up something painful."

Belle felt confused. "I...I haven't dated Shane since we were in high school, what are you talking about?"

"I saw you with him, some days ago. Walking arm-in-arm." Gold confessed quietly.

"That...oh, it's not what you think, Mr. Gold. Shane didn't break my heart, and there is no baby." Belle gave a pat to her flat belly. "Not his, not anyone's. It was only a joke. It's just stress, I'm telling you."

Right. Just stress, as she said. That he could understand. Only, "Dont joke with me like that again, Miss French." He warned her as he returned his papers and pencil to the desk.

"Why, worried I'd come after you for child support?" Belle went on, not realizing the turmoil she'd stirred in her friend. "No worries there, even if I was pregnant no one would believe me if I said you were the father."

Gold closed his eyes and counted to ten before turning back around to face her. A good friend, he bit his tongue and gave her a smile. He really didn't need the reminder that the idea of them together was a joke in Belle's eyes.

Best to get off this topic.

Inside, Gold shook off the minutes of tension she'd stirred in him with a careless choice of words.

Inside, he let himself feel relief that Belle was free, that by her own words, she and Shane Garrison had no claim on each other. Things were as they had always been. He could take comfort in that.

"What will you do with that drawing?"

"I'm going to frame it." Belle decided.

"You can't be serious," he scoffed. "It's hardly worth framing."

"Why do you say that? It's great."

"No, it's hardly my best work, Miss French. It's not even in color."

Belle stroked her fingertips down his suited sleeve. "You're opening the floodgates. If you're saying you can do better than this I'll be in here every night looking to be drawn or painted."

Gold smiled warmly, lifting his hand to cradle her elbow. "And you think I would object to that?"

"I think you'd object to my being a drain on your art supplies."

"I can always buy more." He dismissed. The man resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, stroke his hand up and down her back as he had that night in April. He had touched no one since then. "And it's rare that I have such a lovely subject. I know your face, I can draw you any time."

"I'd ask you to teach me, but four years of art in high school has already shown me I'm a lost cause, just like with the dancing."

"No, you're not a lost cause, your talents just lay elsewhere." Gold asserted.

It must have been her father who'd put these ideas in her head, that she wasn't intelligent, or beautiful or talented. Moe French had smothered something inside of her, tarnished her, but to Gold, Belle could light the world.

"I haven't found them yet."

"I wouldn't say that, you never know what could-"

Mr. Gold's words were cut off by the sound of the store bell, signaling a customer.

"Ah, excuse me."

Gold released her and went to the front of the shop to deal, leaving Belle alone with her thoughts.


	12. The Necklace

The sun was piercing, a bright spot of heavenly light with hell's heat to match. Maine had been experiencing a heat wave over the past week. It had kept most people indoors, the playgrounds and parks, even the patio behind Granny's was largely deserted. The people of Storybrooke were unused to the sudden heat, and it seemed that all Belle had retained from her true people was her accent, because even she felt like melting under the sun.

 _I've shamed all of Australia_ , Belle thought to herself as she put on her bikini. Following her bathing suit was one of her favorite sundresses, simple white cotton with an eyelet pattern. It left a fair amount of skin exposed, but what did that matter when she was only using it for a beach cover?

Ariel had called her that morning to invite her out with Marcus and Shane, their plan was to hit the beach and make a day of it, given that they all had the day off from work. Starved for fun, Belle had jumped at the invitation and had already packed a tote bag by the time Ariel had hung up her end of the line.

Now all Belle needed was a basket, and she knew just where to find one.

"Mr. Gold? Are you in?"

Being a Sunday, Mr. Gold didn't pawn, trade or sell out of the shop, but he often spent the day inside its walls to go over paperwork and such if he wasn't out collecting rent or staying in at his house.

"In the back, Miss French."

Belle followed his voice into the back of the shop, where she found him seated at the work table, bent over several lenses in a metal tube that he was looking at with a large magnifying glass.

"Oh, what're you working on?" She asked, stepping up beside him.

"These are the innards of an Orion telescope. I'm repairing it for a curator colleague of mine from New York." Gold told her, not looking up from his work. He wasn't trying to be rude, he was only so engrossed in finding the problem within that he feared looking away would interrupt the progress he'd made that morning. "I'm very close to finding the - ah! There it is." He lifted one of the internal lenses, it had a hairline crack down the middle, which was magnified by the others and so prevented a clear view. "I'll phone and let her know the problem with this..."

Gold trailed off once he finally turned to address Belle, laying eyes on her for the first time since she'd entered the shop.

A dress of snowy white hugged her petite frame, it's breezy skirt fell just to her knees, while the deep V of its neckline and the thin straps rising over her shoulders left an expanse of creamy, freckled skin open to his eyes. Beneath the pristine cotton, he could make the dark outline of a bathing suit, a simple cut bikini. Its deep violet strings rose across her shoulders, tying behind her neck. He ignored the itch in his fingers to pull at the knot.

On her feet were cheap sandals, and cheap earrings in the shape of tiny starfish dangled from her ears.

He blinked. "Miss French, you're not off for a swim in the lake, are you?"

Belle shook her head and set her bag on the work table. Inside, she had loaded the essentials: sunblock with a high SPF, a rolled towel, sunglasses and a change of clothes for later in the evening.

"No, not the lake. Ariel, Marcus, Shane and I are going to the beach. It's my first full day off in weeks, I think I've earned some fun."

Gold nodded. "No one would begrudge you that. Which beach are you visiting?"

"You know, I couldn't tell you. Ariel is going to show us where it is, apparently it's some secret beach only she and her sisters know about." Belle shrugged. "Her sisters aren't coming with us, though, it'll just be the four of us today."

 _What a lovely double date_ , Gold thought in irritation.

The man had no right to jealousy, he knew, but he couldn't help the tension that stirred in him when he thought back to the morning he'd watched her, first walking with Shane Garrison from her apartment and then allowing herself to be handled by Marcus.

Belle had told him she wasn't with Shane, but Gold didn't know what to make of their connection, and tried not to speculate. He dreaded what he would find if he went looking for answers.

"I wanted to ask if I could borrow that basket." Belle said, pointing to a woven wicker basket on the shelf against the wall. It would serve her purpose for the day. "I promise to bring it back the next time I see you."

"As if I could say no to you. It's all yours."

"You're a life-saver! Thank you Mr. Gold."

"It's no problem." He assured her, leading the way into the show room of the shop.

"What are the beaches like in Scotland?" She asked him suddenly.

Belle did this fairly often, asking how the places he'd been in the world compared to the weather, the food, the social atmosphere of Storybrooke. Belle knew so little else.

Gold thought a moment. "Ah, the beaches at home aren't as craggy and frigid as you might expect. Armadale Bay and Camas a'Charaig are both lovely, pure sand with wonderful views. Sandwood Bay is a national treasure. I haven't been there since..." Gold trailed off, remembering that day, but cleared his throat. "Well, it's been a long time. But we have beautiful beaches, well worth visiting if you ever make it over that way."

Belle gave a small smile, and looked down to her sandals. "I doubt that will ever happen. Listening to you is as close as I may get. But I'd rather talk to you than anyone."

"You do know I'll be here for you, any time you need to talk, don't you?" He wished she would look up at him. The man hadn't forgotten how she'd cried at a drawing and he hadn't forgotten how she'd refused to confide her true troubles to him, claiming stress instead. "Miss French-"

"What were the beaches like in Greece?" She asked, cutting him off.

Gold knew she was deflecting, but what could he do? He was hardly in a position to force secrets from her. So, he would oblige until she felt ready to confide in him, if ever.

"The Greek beaches are...blinding white sand, water clear enough to see down to the sea floor, hot wind, cloudless days. And painful sunburns." They shared a laugh at this. "I didn't care for sunblock that first day, I was too eager to get in the water. My wife was more careful..."

Gold bit his tongue as Belle's eyes widened. He had not meant to let that slip. "I didn't know you were married, Mr. Gold."

"It was a long time ago." Gold dismissed. His expression did not invited further words on that topic. She understood, and set her bag and basket on the counter.

Belle went on to ask after Greece. "What's the food like there?"

"It's delicious, if you're used to lamb, which I certainly am. Their coffee is very strong, it's perfect after a hard night of their wine." He smiled. "There was a wonderful cafe we stopped at on the way to the pantheon ruins-"

Eagerness flashed in her eyes. "The ruins? You've seen them?"

"Of course. You wouldn't go to Orlando without visiting Disneyworld, and so you can't go to Greece without seeing the beaches and ruins."

"Seeing the ruins is on my bucket list, I should probably add Disneyworld to the list too. They're both out of reach for now." Belle shrugged.

Gold considered her for a moment. He didn't know the details, but he knew that Miss French didn't have more than two nickels to her name and he was sure that her father was somehow to blame for that.

He thought of something to bring back the smile he loved best on her. "I - here, are you familiar with the Greek philosopher Axiothea of Phlius? I have a piece from that time period that you might appreciate."

"Oh, of course!" She smiled. "You know, I just finished a philosophy anthology last week."

Gold raised his brows. "I don't know how you find the time."

"Not to brag, but I can read books as quickly as you can read people."

"Seems we each have our talents, then." Gold remarked as he withdrew a jewelry tray from the glass counter case between them. He took a necklace from the tray, a thick band of gold inlaid with gemstones in a repeating pattern of onyx, amber and lapis. It was stunning in its ancient beauty, and Belle was just about to ask how he came by such a piece, when he asked, "Would you like to try it on?"

He held the necklace out before her eyes, tempting her with this jeweled snake.

"Oh, Mr. Gold, I couldn't."

"And why not?"

"It's a piece of history, if it really belonged to Axiothea...I mean, she changed the world." He couldn't be serious, suggesting she try on a piece that belonged in a museum like it was a sweater off a thrift rack.

"That she did, but she was also known for her generosity, so if she was here I'm sure she wouldn't object to sharing this with you. Besides, such jewels were worn by the scholars of the day, so I'd say that you've earned your chance to wear it."

His reasoning was sound, and her reservations were defeated. Belle smiled, conspiring with him. It almost felt like she was getting away with something, some taboo little thrill. "Well, I guess just trying it on for a minute won't hurt anything."

She reached to take it, but Gold withdrew. "May I?" He asked, his meaning plain.

Belle nodded, and Gold inclined his head for her to follow him over to a mirror - like the necklace and the scarab, it was a piece restored from another time, and had once been housed in a Victorian mansion just outside of London. Generations of house servants and aristocracy alike had looked upon themselves in the glass, and now it was their turn.

Belle stood still as Gold moved up behind her and draped the necklace forward, bringing the chain over her head and about her neck. The metal was heavy on her skin. The man's hands were careful as he lifted her hair away from the closure, resettling her curls over one shoulder rather than free down her back, leaving her opposite shoulder bare.

Instead of stepping aside, Mr. Gold remained behind her, his hands resting over her shoulders. The man's dark eyes met hers in the mirror. A soft, steady stare. Belle felt familiar heat bloom in her cheeks and over her throat at his nearness. They often spent time alone, but it was a rare thing that he would touch her, and never had the man taken such an intimate stance with her before.

She could feel her skin tightening beneath his hands, her breasts pebbling. They stared at each other in the glass, Belle's skin had gone rosy all over and Gold's eyes had taken on a distinct intensity. She could feel his hot exhale ghost over her exposed back. Her hands bunched in the skirt of her dress, fisting the fabric. He stroked his hands across her shoulders, his fingers strong on her skin, and Belle's chest lurched in a heady mix of arousal and fear. She closed her eyes under his gentle massage, biting her lip, fighting the moan building in her throat.

"There. Helen of Troy herself."

His voice had deepened, things were all too clear to Belle. She could turn around, let him kiss her, let him take this further, let him take _her_ farther...

But no.

Mr. Gold could be remembering his wife now, a woman he must have loved, and was trying to use her as a substitute.

Or...

Mr. Gold may just be feeling the summer, a rush of heat to the blood that could steer him toward any woman, and she was simply present. That had to be it. She wasn't special to him, she was just _there._

"Oh, Mr. Gold, no one is going to war over me."

Belle broke her gaze from his in the glass, killing their moment, turning away to remove the necklace herself. She couldn't allow his hands on her again. Not when she would surrender herself so easily.

She handed the necklace back to him and moved to the counter to collect her bag and the basket. Gold returned her false smile with one of his own, taking back the jewels with all care.

"You might be surprised, Miss French."

If she heard his remark, Belle didn't answer him as she strode out of the shop.

______________________________

As Belle disappeared into Granny's, Gold threw the damn necklace against the wall and limped his way back into the work room. A light sweat had broken over his forehead, his mind was unfocused and he was uncomfortably, painfully aroused.

_What I did...have I ruined it all?_

No.

No, Gold took a deep breath to calm his thundering pulse, and tried to think. It was no simple task. His mind was spinning with thoughts of Belle, beautiful Belle naked and waiting for him in his own bed, Belle begging him to take her in the library, Belle looking at him with those damn bright eyes and that clever smile telling him he was loved again.

The man fixed himself a glass of ice water, hoping to cool these heated thoughts. But how could he hope to, when he'd seen the arousal in Belle's eyes, felt it in the air between them?

This wasn't one of his daydreams, he had sensed Belle's wanting. As a man, he knew down to his bones that Belle had been his for the taking. All he'd needed was a sign, but she had run from him instead.

When he asked himself why, he laughed at the idiot question.

 _You know why_ , he chided himself. _You couldn't keep it hidden. Without a word you came on too strong - you scared her...but you also excited her._

That last bit was true, and added fuel to his flicker of hope for more than this secret friendship they shared. If Belle had been excited by his touch, then sure enough she must feel _something_ for him. Something beyond the simple care between friends.

Gold took a deep breath, rallying his strength, his determination and his courage. They couldn't go back to the way things were, not now that lust had nearly overcome them both.

 _We can't go on like this. We can't, we_ won't.

______________________________

Belle strode out of the pawn shop and she didn't pause in her stride until she'd entered the ladies room at Granny's and shut the door behind her, leaning her back against it, shutting out the world so that she could catch her breath and collect her thoughts.

Belle took several deep breaths and speared her fingers through her hair, pulling at it when she snagged a tangle. She was overdue for a trim. Mr. Gold...he...he had held her, stroked her, his hands sure and hypnotic over her bare shoulders, her back, and his eyes...God, his eyes had been on fire, burning into her own through the glass of the mirror. And she had loved it, but his sudden intensity had frightened her out the door of his shop.

Why had she run? Why, when he'd clearly been searching her for a sign, just the slightest nod of assent, the proof that she wanted him, too?

No.

Belle knew. She'd allowed her insecurities rise to overtake her, plaguing her with the thoughts that had clawed at her for years - that she was no good, just a poor girl from the wrong side of town, Moe French's screwup daughter, who Mr. Gold couldn't have possibly been looking at for anything other than an easy lay.

Now, though, she knew none of it was true - she had tried so hard to put distance between her father's crimes and what she was now, tried to rise above the reckless choices of her youth. And Mr. Gold wouldn't think of her that way, not after all this time.

Belle moved to the sink and wet her hands, lifting them to flick cold water over the flush that glowed beneath the skin of her chest, throat and cheeks. Proof of her arousal, anger at denied satisfaction.

_Get ahold of yourself._

What might have happened, if she had given him the sign he sought, just a nod of her head or a slight lean further into his secure hold?

Such was how that silent question was answered between two animals, one male and one female in the high heat of summer. Gold might have guided her to turn around so that he could kiss her, or he might have dipped his head those precious few inches to graze her throat with his teeth...but Belle had ruined it, all of it, and where could they go from here, now that the suggestion of _more_ had been introduced between them?

Would they go on as they always had, pretending it had never happened or would Gold want to talk? Belle cringed at the idea. God knows what truth she might blurt out if Gold only brought it up to apologize and dismiss it as some heated bit of madness on his part.

A quick knock startled her out of her thoughts.

"Belle, are you in there?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, Ariel, I'm coming out."

Ariel took a step back as Belle came out and they made their way to the front of the restaurant. "Shane just pulled up. He and Marcus have everything, Ruby's just sneaking us a few extra things."

'A few extra things' turned out to be almost too much for Belle's basket.

"Here, and just a couple more sandwiches." Ruby insisted, holding them out toward the open mouth of the basket.

"Rubes, we already have a ton!" Marcus groused from his seat at the bar.

"You say that now but you'll be starving at the end of the day." Ruby reasoned, jealous that she couldn't join them on their day trip. "Besides, we need to make room for the fresh sandwiches."

"Nice to know we're your convenient garbage disposals." Shane said, taking the last sandwich and giving it a suspicious look. "They're not furry with mold on the inside, are they?"

"They're only a day old! If you don't like them, toss them to the birds."

"Thank you Ruby, this is more than generous." Ariel told her, embarassed by Shane's ungrateful joke.

"No sweat." Ruby shrugged. "Where'd you get the picnic basket, anyway?"

"Mr. Gold let me borrow it." Belle said without thinking.

"Mr. Gold? How'd that happen? I thought you hadn't spoken to him after you had breakfast with him a few months back." Ruby's reminder of the meal she'd shared with the man after his disappearance in the winter only further twisted the knife in Belle's belly.

It was too easy to bring out a believable lie. "I haven't. I just saw the basket in the window and asked if I could use it for the day. He said it probably wouldn't sell anyway so he let me take it."

Overhearing this, Granny, owner of the diner and known by no other name, stepped over to their group. She was a strong woman, and strongest in her convictions. "You watch out, Belle, Gold never gives anything for free."

"How do you mean?" Belle asked the question, but she was sure she would hear the same tired answer and Granny did not disappoint.

"I mean you don't need to make friends with a man like that - God only knows what kind of favor he'll decide you owe him for borrowing a basket."

Belle rolled her eyes. "I'll be sure to keep my distance, Granny."

Marcus wasn't in the mood to hear yet another tirade against Mr. Gold - he wouldn't have his auto store without the other man's loan, after all - when they had a day at the beach to look forward to. "All right, the Jeep's loaded. Full tank of gas, full coolers of beer and water, and thanks to the world's sexiest waitress we've got about 80 sandwiches to split between us. Lets go."

The man had summed up the situation perfectly, and so the group marched out the door, into the heat and into the sun, ready to claim their day.

_______________________________

"Belle, you look like you got some sun already, you're all red." Marcus handed her a bottle from the cooler set between the driver and the passenger seat. "Have a water, it should cool you down."

Belle smiled, glad no one had even thought to guess at the reason behind her flushed face. "Thanks, I'll drain it."

"So, Ariel, we've been riding the coastline for over an hour, where is this place?" Shane asked, hanging his arm out the window, surfing his hand against the air.

"We're still about 15 minutes away, but I promise you this will be worth the drive."

"Hey, our day off is in your hands. If we get there and it sucks, we'll never let you live it down." Marcus warned her, smiling.

"No pressure." Ariel laughed.

Thankfully, once they arrived along the stretch of shore, Ariel's secret lagoon was no disappointment - it was a secluded spot that had been overlooked by regular beach-combers, leaving it beautifully preserved, and just for them to share. A scattering of trees offered shade, and a long jetty would give them something to climb on, a point where they could drop a line and search for crabs.

Stepping out of the Jeep to look around, Shane spread his arms, a broad smile unfolding over his face. "Damn, Ariel, you weren't kidding, this is great! God, just look at it."

Ariel nudged him in the ribs. "I knew you'd all love it, my sisters and I came here all the time when we were younger, not so much after high school. We still come a few times every summer, though, and today was too perfect to resist it."

The group got to work laying out their area, eager to get everything set. Belle and Ariel laid out a wide blanket, then set the coolers on the corners to keep it from blowing away. Marcus planted big umbrellas in the packed sand while Shane brought out the portable speaker and set his music to blaring.

Moments later they were all in the water, diving, splashing and, after calling each other out, they began chicken fighting, the men standing while the women on their shoulders grappled, tumbling each other off-balance into the water.

Long hours they spent in the waves, only pausing to reapply sunscreen and drink water. Once the late afternoon came over them, the group dried off and started in on the sandwiches Ruby had loaded into the picnic basket. The bread was only a touch stale on the edges, but that was negligible in their raw hunger. Ruby had been right after all.

The basket had also been packed with containers of cookies, potato salad, sliced apples and pears, honey-roasted cashews, a vegetable tray, crackers and cheese. It didn't take long for the four of them to devour the whole feast, leaving only a few of the staler sandwiches to be tossed to the gulls that had been circling them for the past hour, hungry for scraps.

Belle tore off tiny bits of bread, watching as a few gulls clamored for it. _Spoiled birds,_ she thought. Beside her, Ariel was doing the same. For a while, they were kids again, feeding birds like they had at the park, years ago.

When the bread was gone, and the gulls saw their free lunch was over, the group decided to take a rest since it was too soon to get back into the water.

"Man, I'm beat." Marcus said through a yawn. He reached over and swatted Belle on her backside. "You're heavier than you look. I call Ariel on the next chicken fight."

Belle turned and kicked him in the shin. "And you have a death wish to say something like that."

"Death by a beautiful woman...yeah, I'll take it." He shrugged.

Ariel rolled her eyes at him. "Charming friend you've got, Shane."

For his part, Shane wasn't much in the mood to tease the women. He leaned over and tugged on Ariel's fiery hair. "He's insufferable around you ladies - but what can you expect? He had a rough childhood. His dad wasn't in the picture much."

"Hey, I didn't need my dad, I shared yours for a good couple of years." Marcus reminded him.

Shane nodded, remembering the good times when his father would invite them for hunting and fishing trips. It wasn't anything they were interested in, but they'd gone along anyway to please the older man, to hopefully gain a measure of acceptance, if not celebration.

Shane yawned and laid back on the blanket to rest, and Marcus was quick to follow his lead. The men loved the sun, their skin tanning beautifully under the bright rays. Ariel laid down in the shade of the umbrella, careful of her pale skin. Belle shared her friend's light complexion, so quick to burn, and so made room for herself in the shade as well. The women shared a look, perfectly communicating their jealousy over the mens' ease under the sun.

Belle was tired. Hours of horseplay in the waves had done wonders for her spirit, but she was tired in the best way. She tried not to think of what had happened with Mr. Gold, but as soon as she'd settled down next to Ariel the whole scene played out in her mind all over again - their easy banter, her agreeing to wear the necklace and then that terrifying, thick arousal that had come over them both like a heated spell, and how Belle had let herself ruin what could well have been everything she'd been dreaming of for months.

Despite a few reckless years in high school, Belle wasn't always one to jump into bed or dive headfirst into a kiss...though she kicked herself ten times over for not letting her body lead her into the arms of the one man she wanted.

And she did want him. It had been an ache in her chest when he'd left in the winter, and she feared losing him to his own secrets.

Even with her dread at the awkwardness of it, Belle hoped that Mr. Gold might speak of their moment in the shop the next time she saw him. She was too afraid to bring it up on her own, sure if she did that he would apologize and take care to keep her even farther than an arm's length away in future.

Belle didn't want that.

Certainly, she wanted more than the polite friendship they'd shared for the past year, but not all at once - she'd been overwhelmed, frightened by the intensity she'd seen in his eyes. He'd looked ready to eat her alive, right there in the shop. He hadn't looked like himself at all.

If Mr. Gold mentioned what had happened before the mirror, then she might be able to turn his words to her advantage. She wanted to convince him that she, Belle French, could be worth taking a chance with. That she was worth more than polite friendship, that when the time was right, she could be worth his romance, his passion.

_Or maybe I'm just worthless._

Belle sighed, her mind exhausted from churning out a hundred potential outcomes for the next time she saw the man. Only time would tell. Until then, Belle could do nothing but lay back in the shade and wait.


	13. Sunshire

Summer bloomed over Storybrooke, hot, breezy and colorful. For days, Gold waited for Belle to come into his shop so that he might bring his plan to action. He understood that she was keeping her distance; he'd seen her walking this way or that from the shop window, walking toward the library or in the direction of Game of Thorns, depending on the day. They had waved at each other a few times and bumped into each other on the street as she'd been hurrying between jobs.

She was as busy as ever, she'd told him, but promised to drop by the shop later on that day. So Gold had done his usual maintenance, sending out notices and the like, and he'd taken to looking over his pouch of gems when the bell above the door jingled to announce his visitor.

Using the remote to bring down the volume on Lana del Rey's crooning of _Video Games_ , (the sound system being Belle's suggestion from their first month of acquaintance - he'd installed the system the very next day and enjoyed it every day since) he smiled to see her step inside with the basket he'd let her take on her last visit.

"Good afternoon, Miss French."

She returned his smile, and Gold was thankful to see that she didn't appear nervous to be with him in the shop again. Belle lifted the basket, passing it to him across the counter. "Hi, Mr. Gold. I'm sorry I'm a little late, I had to run back to my place to grab that for you, I almost forgot it."

He took the basket and set it on the floor. He'd put it back in the work room later. "I wasn't in any rush to get it back, but thank you. Did you have fun at the beach?"

Belle huffed out a laugh. "Lots of fun, but too much sun. Look at this."

Belle lifted her hair and pulled the collar of her blouse to the side to expose her neck and shoulder, where the skin glowed with a bright, painful sunburn. Gold had touched her there, just days ago stroked her freckled skin, but seeing it now, he could only shake his head. "Red as a lobster."

Belle righted herself. "It's my own fault, I got careless and missed some spots. My shoulder's the worst of it, though. Luckily it's nothing some aloe lotion can't help."

Gold noticed then, a bright patch on the back of her left arm, some of the back of her right hand shared red as well. It was on his tongue, the offer to massage her tender skin with the cooling lotion, but he bit it back.

"I am sorry you came back with a burn, but it's good that you had a day to spend with friends. Is your work schedule lightening up at all?" Here he was genuinely curious. Belle worked so hard, both to further her career at the library and to keep her father's business afloat, but from what Gold could tell she had nearly nothing to show for it.

Belle shrugged lightly. "I...I'm still working at Game of Thorns and at the library, but I've stopped taking on the extra work around town. Things are hitting an even keel for the moment. Who knows? I might even get a full weekend somewhere down the line!"

Gold smiled pleasantly, but inside he was angry for her. If her father had any sense for business, and any sense of responsibility at all, then Belle wouldn't be working herself to the bone just to save his sinking ship.

Unfortunately, because Belle was making sure all the bills and payments went through, Gold could not shut town the flower shop and free her. Not that he wasn't ready to pounce with a foreclosure notice the moment they were a day late on the rent. He rather thought Belle would thank him for that.

In any case...

"Miss French, would you be free next Sunday?"

Belle thought for a moment. "The library will be closed and...let me see..." She pulled a folded piece of paper from her oversized purse and looked it over. "No, I'm not working the shop either. Looks like I'm free as a bird."

She grinned and, with a wink, pulled two cold glass bottles of root beer from her purse as well. Gold wasn't sure where her neverending supply of sodas came from, but he wasn't complaining. Root beer was his favorite. Gold took both bottles, twisted off the caps and handed one back to her. "Thank you for the drink." He said after a sip.

Belle accepted his thanks, and began fingering her right earring. Plastic pink roses today, not her gifted topaz.

He could waffle back and forth on this for another few days, but recalling her response to him before the mirror, he'd had enough hesitation. "Miss French, would you like to accompany me to Sunshire?"

"Me?"

Gold looked around the shop. "You're the only one here. I've been meaning to ask you to come out with me for some time. This opportunity came up and as you're free that day I thought to strike now."

Belle blinked. "What's going on in Sunshire?"

"There's an opportunity there. An ornate carved headboard that was part of a recent estate sale. The buyer is set, I'm only going to ensure it hasn't been damaged, and to see it prepped for transport." He explained. "That won't take long, and once it's done I thought we could make a day of it."

Belle was silent.

"Unless you'd prefer to stay in the back room and we go on acting like strangers outside of my shop and your library?" Gold prompted.

Belle laughed, "All right, sold!" She reached forward and shook his hand.

"I'll pick you up, say, 11?" Gold suggested.

"I'll be ready, Mr. Gold."

______________________________

Sunday arrived slowly.

Belle spent the ten days between Mr. Gold's invitation and the day of their trip in a state of excitement and determination. She'd hardly believed her ears when he'd asked her to come away with him for the day, he'd had to tell a joke to snap her back to the moment.

 _This_ was what she'd been hoping for without putting her wish into words: for Mr. Gold to see her outside of Storybrooke, away from all the disapproving eyes and the idiot gossip.

That moment of intensity at the mirror had been overwhelming - though they hadn't shared a word, it had revealed everything hidden between them. Mr. Gold had shown her, just with the stroke of his hands and the piercing of his eyes that he wanted her. If Belle hadn't broken the moment, he might have moved to take her right there, and she wouldn't have resisted, but she feared the regret that would follow.

If Belle was to allow things to go deeper with Mr. Gold, and she wanted nothing more in the world, then she had to know what he thought of her in his own words. It wasn't enough to know she could give rise to lust in the man, lust was fleeting; she wanted to know he cared for her and that anything between them could be lasting.

But this, a day spent together in their neighboring city of Sunshire, it would be a wonderful way to spend the time rather than pretend being relative strangers outside of a few locations in town, as Mr. Gold had said. They had been friends for a year but she craved this freedom to explore each other more deeply. Belle saw this as an opportunity to test the man, and herself, once the constraints of Storybrooke would be let loose.

 _Hell, we might go wild and use each other's first names!_ Belle thought wryly. Nevermind she had no idea what Mr. Gold's real name was, and he'd shown no inclination to share it.

Belle dug through her closet to choose the perfect outfit, hair and makeup style for their outting. She wanted to look like she belonged with a man like him, in a city like Sunshire. There, she wouldn't be the poor girl with the criminal father, pinching pennies and struggling just to scrape by. There, she could be herself and more. There, she could openly be Mr. Gold's friend, and to the unknowing eye, she could be his equal, his lover.

Once the day finally arrived, Belle woke early to shower and attend to her skin - exfoliating, shaving, washing, then moisturizing with an extra rich cream to keep herself soft and help speed along her sunburn's healing. For scent, she spritzed herself behind the ears with the last drops of Dolce & Gabana's _Light Blue,_ a birthday gift from Jasmine from three years past. Belle tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

The woman studied her face in the mirror carefully, checking her brows, her lashes and lips.

She flossed and brushed her teeth twice, then applied her makeup with the precision of a surgeon. Belle had decided days ago to enhance her eyes with a black liner and then a light bronze shadow, curling her lashes and adding a single coat of mascara. She wasn't overly vain, but she adored her own eyes - they had always been distinctive in the family, a bright, clear blue. With her makeup they practically glowed in the mirror. A slick of strawberry gloss on her lips finished the look. She pinned back her curls with gold bobby pins and brought the rest of her hair forward over her shoulders.

Belle rushed back and forth across her apartment in her bra and panties, feeling giddy and scatterbrained. Her dress had been selected days ago, as had her jewelry and shoes. Carefully, she shimmied into her dress, a simple A-line cut with a deep V-neck in firecracker red lace. Perhaps she'd been inspired by the last two Hunger Games films after reading all the books, but she wanted to look like a girl on fire for Mr. Gold. Her purse was a simple gold clutch, her shoes were gold heels with thin straps lacing across her feet and ankles, borrowed from Ruby. She'd even had her short nails done in a matching red shade with thin gold tips - a kicky detail, but he might notice.

Belle stood before the mirror, happily obsessing over her look for the day, hoping Mr. Gold would like it. Hoping he would praise her, call her beautiful again because when he said the words she truly believed him.

Her eyes snapped to her door when she heard the knocking, precisely at 11 am.

Mr. Gold had come for her.

Belle called out "Just one second!" and looked herself over in the mirror again. Her hair looked soft, touchable. Her dress was a balance of tasteful and alluring. Her makeup was fresh, keeping focus on her eyes. Her skin was lotioned and perfumed, her sunburns almost fully healed now.

_All right, here goes everything!_

Belle took up her clutch purse and crossed to answer the door. She took a final deep breath and twisted the knob.

Mr. Gold stood on her doorstep, and clearly she hadn't been the only one to make an extra effort with her wardrobe for their day out together. The man wore a charcoal grey suit and matching waistcoat, with a white shirt and a dark teal tie underneath. Black leather shoes were on his feet, and if Belle wasn't mistaken, his cane had been polished from handle to tip. It was a smart look, and certainly brighter than anything she'd seen him wear before in Storybrooke.

But the expression on his face wasn't something she'd ever seen him wear in town, either. His eyes had widened as he took her in, looking her up and down several times, his jaw tensing without saying a word.

"Mr. Gold?"

He blinked. "Miss French, you look..."

"Nice?" She supplied.

"Absolutely gorgeous."

Belle felt heat rise, sure she was blushing as bright as her dress. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. You look very handsome. I guess we had the same idea to dress up today."

He nodded, still staring, clearly dumbfounded by her appearance. "I...hmm? Dressed up?"

Belle stepped out to join him in the hall and locked her door, then the two of them moved to the elevator. "Your suit. I can't help noticing that it's new, and you're usually not one for lighter colors." She said, gesturing to his shirt and tie.

Gold raised his brows as they stepped into the elevator car and it make the quick descent to the lobby. From behind the security desk, Dove nodded to them as they left, making way toward his car parked just on the curb. "Ah, I wasn't aware that you kept such an eye on my wardrobe, Miss French."

Settling into the passenger seat after Mr. Gold held open the door for her, Belle blushed again. "I never said I was monitoring your wardrobe!"

Gold started the car and shifted into gear. It was just past 11am, they would arrive in Sunshire in less than an hour and from there, the day was theirs. "No, just my suits and the colors I tend to favor." He teased. "Miss French, I didn't know you cared."

Belle fiddled with the clutch purse in her lap. "Of course I care. But you noticed me too, so what does that tell you?"

Gold steered them out of town. "Only that I'm a master at stating the obvious."

He smiled lightly at her, and Belle felt any nervous tension she'd had slip away. Mr. Gold might not have noticed her nails, but he'd definitely noticed _her_ , and their day was just getting started.

______________________________

After only a few minutes spent arguing over what to listen to on the radio, the ride over to Sunshire was spent in easy banter. He teased her, she teased him, and it was like his Cadillac had become an extension of the sanctuary granted inside his shop.

The car crossed over the town line into Sunshire, and Gold steered them on a route that he was clearly familiar with. "This is my only business for the day, Miss French. It'll be very quick, just in and out."

"What are you doing in there, again?" Belle asked.

"It's a carved headboard. It was part of an estate sale, and the buyer hired me to inspect the piece before it ships. All I need to do is look it over, and then we can go." He explained as he pulled up to a non-descript warehouse building, one of many in the surrounding business park.

They exited the car and stepped into the front end of the warehouse where the offices were located. A man was waiting for them, who Mr. Gold introduced to her as Mr. Fielder.

"It's just in the back, Mr. Gold. Once we have your signature, we'll ship it today." Mr. Fielder explained as he lead Mr. Gold into a private storage room.

Belle took a seat in the little waiting area, sipping at water from a paper cone cup and idly flipping through a _People_ magazine from last spring. If she went absolutely still and concentrated, she could hear Mr. Gold and Mr. Fielder talking through the walls. Their voices were muffled, and she could only pick up pieces of their conversation.

"...edging here...-ing this afternoon..."

"Of course. I'll inform...get to the storage unit prep-..."

The door opened and Belle stood once the men came out. Mr. Fielder gestured for them both to follow him, and lead them past the offices into the connecting warehouse in the back of the building.

Belle took a seat once more as Mr. Gold walked a short distance away with Mr. Fielder, and they began speaking once they were out of earshot. She watched idly as they smiled and gestured while the rest of the warehouse went on operating around them.

Three minutes later, the men shook hands and Mr. Gold approached her again. "See? It's as I said, we're all done here."

Belle stood from her chair, impressed. "You weren't lying. We haven't been here more than twenty minutes."

Gold moved toward the other side of the warehouse, and Belle followed him. His car would be easier to reach from the exit door there, rather than go all through the office section of the building to retrace their steps.

"I rarely tell an outright lie. The rest of the time I'm..." Gold thought on how best to explain his ways.

"Creative with the truth?"

Gold smiled at that. She was learning. "Yes. More often than not, unfortunately."

On their way to the exit, they passed the headboard itself as it was being moved to the shipment prep area. The headboard was the very reason for their trip. The very reason that Gold had asked her to spend the day with him here in Sunshire. In a way, Belle felt that she owed some gratitude to the piece.

"Oh, this is it."

Mr. Gold nodded. "Yes, that would be it." He checked his watch. "Have a look, by this time tomorrow it'll be on the other side of the country."

Belle did as he advised and stepped closer to the board, reaching out to trace her fingertips over the heavenly mural carved into the rich dark wood. She touched an angel, then a lion. Such beautiful detail, such a unique work...Belle understood, better and better with each piece that passed through his shop, what drew Mr. Gold toward dealing in antiques.

"It's beautiful." She said softly, moving her hand to trace over a tree in the center of the mural.

Mr. Gold moved to stand behind her, though he kept his hands on the handle of his cane rather than touching her shoulders again. He'd scared her off once already, he wouldn't make that same mistake again.

"It is."

Belle turned around to face him. "And you spoke with the buyer?"

"I did."

"And they'll take good care of this, won't they?"

Gold furrowed his brows, unsure of what she meant.

"I just mean...they'll appreciate it, won't they? This isn't something they'll buy, keep for a while and then just throw away?"

"No, no. Not after the effort they put into finding this piece and then paying me to oversee it's transport. This isn't some Ikea trend to them. It's for a man in Seattle, a housewarming gift for himself and his wife now they've built their dream home. Miss French, is something bothering you?" He asked, unclear on why she seemed so concerned over a headboard, of all things.

Belle shook her head, "No, no, I just...I know it's just a headboard. It's just a piece of wood, and in a better world it would still be a tree. But someone, somewhere, went through the effort of creating something wholly unique in the world. Something beautiful. It deserves to be taken care of, it deserves to be cherished."

For a moment, they were silent.

Belle felt foolish, but in a way, she knew that Mr. Gold understood. He, who so valued objects with interesting histories and had spent a lifetime building a business around them, yes, Mr. Gold understood. She could see it in his eyes.

"I couldn't agree more." He extended his hand. "Rest assured, it will be in good hands. Now, my business here is through, and we have the day to ourselves."

Belle smiled and took his hand into her own, sure that this would be a day to be remembered.

______________________________

Mr. Gold drove them away from the warehouse district of Sunshire and on into the main square of the town. "Do you come here very often, Mr. Gold?" Belle asked.

She was asking this just to make conversation - she knew he came here on occasion, and he'd told her himself that he'd spent part of his time here, when he'd disappeared for those weeks in winter.

He parked and they exited, moving up the main drag, window shopping and passing the occasional cafe. "Yes, I have interests here. A few business, a few personal. And you, Miss French?"

Beside him, Belle shrugged. "Not too often, and especially not lately." That much was too true - working herself so hard had kept Belle chained to Storybrooke. "I haven't been here...oh, it must be over a few months by now! Isn't that strange, how we can get wrapped up in something and time just slips past us?"

Gold nodded. "It happens to me too often. If I could do things over, I'd jump at the chance."

Belle patted his arm. "We all would."

"So, seeing as you haven't been here in so long, allow me to play tour guide." Mr. Gold suggested as they walked on. "Perhaps you'd like to meet my doppelgänger."

"Wait, your what?"

Mr. Gold smiled. "It's just around the corner. Trust me, you'll like this."

______________________________

Belle wandered through the store, _Mr. Green's Collectibles_ , unable to stop herself from comparing this larger, brighter store with Mr. Gold's more intimate shop in Storybrooke. It seemed this Mr. Green needed more space on his sales floor, as he sold furniture sets and home goods in addition to the smaller items such as jewelry and hand crafts.

She smiled to see a shelf bursting with curios; snow globes and tiny jade figurines, wood carvings, children's books and novelty pouches of colorful stones. There were clothes as well, and, browsing through a clearance rack, Belle shook her head. She had to remember that this was Sunshire, Storybrooke's much wealthier sister city - even on clearance, the leather jacket she'd been admiring was still well over $100.

"Miss French."

Belle lifted her head, searching for Mr. Gold. The last she'd seen of him, he'd gone off with Mr. Green to talk about some collection of skeleton keys found in a decrepit London estate.

It had been the strangest thing, to enter this store and be introduced to Mr. Green. There had been a strong resemblance in the men; one of them was a bit taller, one of them was a bit thinner, they shared the same taste in suits and wore their hair perhaps just a bit longer than what was the norm for men in their position. They had the same brown eyes and had similar features; truly, they could pass for brothers though Mr. Green was an American.

Still, doppleganger or not, Belle preferred the real Mr. Gold over any other man.

She turned away from the clothes and rounded a corner to find Mr. Gold standing before a full service tea set, both hands planted on the cane before him. The tea set was gorgeous, the outsides of the pot and cups were a deep royal blue, while the insides were bone white, inlaid with an elegant, swirling design in shimmering gold leaf. The saucers were a perfect reflection of that design, as were the sugar bowl and tiny gold spoons.

"Oh, my God! Just look at this, it's beautiful!" Belle gushed as she lifted a cup for a closer look at the design on the inside rim.

"For you."

Belle nearly dropped the cup, "For me? No, Mr. Gold, I can't accept this. It's lovely, but it's too expensive."

"The sale was final."

"You've seen my apartment, I have nowhere to put it!" She couldn't imagine keeping such a fine set on the card table outside her kitchen.

"I could keep it in the shop, you could visit it there." Gold reasoned.

"But you already have tea things for the back room." She reminded him of the plain black and white set they used when she brought her tea blends to share.

Gold shrugged. Perhaps he should have thought this through a bit better. "I'll just bring it home, then. I'm sure I can find a place for it." God knew his house was full of empty spaces to fill.

"I could visit it there, too." Belle shyly suggested. Where she found the courage to voice such a wish, she had no idea.

Gold cleared his throat, flexed his fingers on the cane. "Yes, you could. Anytime you like."

_Come home with me tonight. You'll never want for anything, ever again._

Belle quirked her lips, "Is that an official invitation?"

Seeing that she was at ease was all the encouragement he needed. He returned her smile. "Only if you'll accept."

He was delighted when she nudged him, "I could never refuse you, Mr. Gold."

The man raised a brow at that. "I'll keep that in mind for later, dearie."

Belle faked a gasp at his daring and swatted his arm. "You're awful!"

He only shrugged. "That I am. Awful and hungry. Lunch, Miss French?"

"I can't refuse lunch, either. Lead the way, Mr. Gold."

Mr. Gold arranged for the tea set to be delivered to his house in Storybrooke. He thought it would look nice on the kitchen table, with or without Miss French as his visitor.

Once again, Belle surprised him by resting her hand in the crook of his elbow and matching her pace to his own. To anyone who saw them, they would appear a couple. Belle had to know that, and yet she walked on happily at his side.

______________________________

Gold and Belle were heading up the main square, intent to find a spot for lunch. He knew of a bistro, it was his favored restaurant in Sunshire and he was sure that Belle would appreciate everything on offer.

It was an alluring fantasy to feed her. Often he toyed with the thought. Belle, assisting him in the kitchen at home, then sharing the finished meal with him at the table. Belle, laying atop his bed in satin lingerie as he fed her berries by hand. Belle, her naked body drizzled in chocolate, caramel and fruit, a living buffet begging for his tongue.

Gold blinked himself out of those thoughts, realizing she'd asked him something. Belle had stopped on noticing the tents and the crowd gathered in Maryhill Park, Sunshire's outdoor marketplace. Often the space was used as a farmer's market, and much like Storybrooke's Spring Fling and Fall Festival, Maryhill hosted all of Sunshire's citizen holidays.

"Mr. Gold, what's that?"

"Oh, right, it's Sunday. That would be the Sunshire flower market. Do you want a look?" He asked.

Although Belle resented having to volunteer to work in her father's shop, she liked flowers as much as she next woman. Besides, any side trips they took before lunch would prolong their time together.

"Yes, please!"

They headed into the park, blending in seamlessly with Sunshire's wealthy. Each tent offered different types of flowers, from standard carnation roses and huge harvested sunflowers to more exotic offerings such as birds of paradise and bright calatheas. Belle was more than impressed when she saw that the tents stretched on and on through the field.

Gold disappeared on her for a moment but Belle wasn't worried, sure they would find each other again. She moved to a tent and began to speak with the vendor, asking him about the tulips and calla lillies he was selling, what vitamins he added to the soil, the temperature of his greenhouses and the like. Belle was forever curious, and hoped to pick up a few tips that might help Game of Thorns going forward.

"Miss French."

Belle turned around, finding Mr. Gold at her side once more. He had a flower for her in his hand, a bloom of bright, canary yellow. "I thought you might like this, it's a-"

"A star orchid!" Belle exclaimed, recognizing it on sight. "Ever since I started at Game of Thorns I've wanted to get some orchids in stock but they're so difficult to keep alive and too expensive to source." Belle looked at it closely, admiring the buttery petals, the full health of the blossoms. "It's beautiful, thank you."

Belle looked back up at him and smiled, tucking the orchid sprig into her hair, just over her ear. Mr. Gold smiled back at her, pleased that she liked his choice of flower. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"I am."

______________________________

At Mr. Gold's suggestion, the pair found themselves seated comfortably on the outdoor terrace of Michael's, a French style bistro. Gold couldn't help suggesting the restaurant with a pun, "French for my favorite French", and mentioned that the only other place in the world that made such a perfect creme brûlée was another cafe in Lyon.

How could Belle refuse such a recommendation? Besides, it wasn't everyday that she was treated to a day in Sunshire, so she wasn't going to argue with him over where to eat.

Again, at his recommendation, Belle ordered the tomato bisque with a large buttered croissant. It was nothing short of fantastic, as were their starter salads, and the bite of his croque Monsieur sandwich he'd offered to her.

After their lunches had been cleared, Mr. Gold had ordered her a creme brûlée so that he could prove the dessert's superiority over any sweet thing she'd ever tasted before.

"Trust me." He'd told her once the waiter brought the dish. "It'll be your new favorite after the first bite."

Belle used her spoon to break through the caramel shell, liking the _crunch_ it made, and scooped out the custard underneath. Mr. Gold watched as she took it between her lips, careful to keep his face neutral as she savored the taste. The hard, hot piece of caramel shell contrasting so wonderfully with the cool, sweet passion fruit cream. The woman closed her eyes and hummed lightly as she let her tongue explore the textures, the flavor, for the first time.

"And so, Miss French?"

Belle opened her eyes to find him grinning at her across the table, waiting for her to admit that he was right, that the creme brûlée here was amazing, the best that America had to offer.

She nodded and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. "You were right, as always. This is delicious." Belle crunched through the shell for another small bite.

Mr. Gold watched as she closed her eyes again, briefly savoring the sweetness on her tongue. If he could trade places with that spoon between her lips, he would do so in a heartbeat.

Belle slid the dish of creme brûlée across the table, to him. "I can't eat the whole thing. You have to share this with me."

Mr. Gold raised a brow. He had ordered the dessert for her, but as he liked it too, he took up his spoon.

Belle smiled. "On three." She said, lifting her spoon once more.

"One." Gold counted out.

She nodded, "Two."

"Three!" They said in unison, the crunch of their spoons breaking the shell. Together, they took a bite, rolling the same flavors on their tongues, experiencing the taste together.

It was a pleasant thing to share, and before long, the dish was empty.

Their waiter cleared the dishes and, at Gold's order, brought out two mimosas. Belle had given a half-hearted protest, but relented when he lifted his glass for a cheers.

"To Sunshire." He said, and his reason for the toast, though unspoken, was clear to her.

 _To Sunshire - because we can be ourselves here, we can be together,_ Belle thought. _It should always be this way._

Belle shifted in her chair, crossing her legs but letting the skirt of her dress ride up just a touch higher on her thigh. His eyes flickered down to her legs just for a moment, but Mr. Gold said nothing.

That was all right, she decided. He didn't need to say anything, he didn't need to do anything. He had already done more than she'd dreamed of for her today, and it was only lunch, their day wasn't over yet. Belle idly touched one of the topaz at her ear, her most prized possessions.

They sat in a lovely, peaceful silence. Relaxed, dreamlike, they watched as Sunshire bustled about its day; children being lead by their parents, groups of rowdy teenagers, singles and couples walking all breeds of dog.

Together they enjoyed the afternoon sun, letting it warm them. Gold felt supremely content. Full from a delicious lunch, his woman at his side, she was secure and provided for and they were as free as they had ever been to enjoy each other's company.

This had been their day.

Gold had let himself believe that Belle was his from the moment he'd woke that morning; that she was his and this was some special occasion between them, a birthday or an anniversary, and Belle had done nothing to ruin his private fantasy. She'd not pulled away when he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her, she'd linked her arm with his when they'd walked the streets and she hadn't corrected Mr. Green when he'd assumed them as being a couple when greeting them in his store. The orchid he'd given her was still tucked in her hair, she proudly wore his bloom.

The man watched her fondly as she sipped at her mimosa, slightly alarmed at how light she made him feel. With her there was no stress, no anger, no disappointment. Even being as silent as they were, she made him happy, and happiness was something he hadn't felt in years.

No one should have such power over him.

Belle set her glass down and looked back at him, and her heeled foot nudged his calf under the table. "What's next, Mr. Gold?"

The man shrugged, "My business here is done with, but we can take in a bit more of the town if you're in no hurry to get home."

"I'm always up for new scenery."

"As my lady wishes." He said, making her smile in remembrance at their inside joke.

Belle rose from the table with him and together they made their way further into town, with no particular heading in mind.

______________________________

Eventually they wove their way into an art store, where Belle showed interest in several watercolor landscapes, and one oil pastel of a Highland castle. Gold wasn't too keen on any of the works on display, but made a mental note of what she liked.

Who knew?

He might procure one of the works and hold on to it as a gift for her, should things between them ever take that more favorable turn. A fond wish, that, but in all likelihood he'd buy a painting and give it to her as a birthday or Christmas gift - a present between friends, nothing more.

Well.

Either way, Gold could make her smile, so he would make a call for one of the pieces the following afternoon.

After the art store, Gold and Belle made their way to an old-fashioned ice cream shop for another sweet snack. A cup of raspberry swirl for her, a cone of toffee nut crunch for him. They spoke of idle things, her plans for the library's next project and he told a funny story about some buyer from his dealings in the past.

Belle forced herself to ignore the way he licked at his cone, imagining herself on the receiving end of his tongue.

Instead, she listened as Mr. Gold expanded on one of the more difficult jewel works he was to receive. It would be a brooch from one of the last Russian czars, gifted to a mistress, a treasure of sapphire, emerald, ruby, citrine and diamond.

"It sounds beautiful." Belle said.

"It was, once. And it will be again when I'm finished with it. It will be difficult, some of the stones are missing, broken prongs and the like." He shrugged. "Once I have the piece, I'll know what I need from a jeweler."

"A jeweler?" Belle raised a brow. "Shane's the only jeweler I know."

"Yes, Mr. Garrison was quite helpful in gaining me access to the gemstone trade."

"You and Shane have done business before?" She asked, surprised. "I had no idea."

"It was just after the death of his father. I gave him time to adjust to his taking his father's place in exchange for his assistance." Gold told her, careful not to reveal any pertinent details. If Belle had questions, he was sure she would ask Mr. Garrison herself.

Belle smiled and nudged his shoulder. "See? Why don't people know this side of you?"

He shook his head, smiling lightly. "I enjoy keeping my secrets, Miss French. If Storybrooke knew of my occasional generosity, they would all be breaking down my door to demand the same favor. Better that they think me a monster and preserve my business reputation."

She nodded, understanding. Mr. Gold was a mystery to her in many ways, but in others he could make perfect sense.

Perhaps, in time, they could make sense together.

___________________________

The sun was shifting, the daylight hours growing shorter.

It was with regret that Mr. Gold and Belle knew their day together was over. Evening was descending on them, the sky sweeping into orange, pink and purple. They shared a look, and Mr. Gold jingled his keys. Belle nodded and took up her purse.

She would have had more fun with their unspoken conversation if she wasn't so disappointed that their time was at an end.

Mr. Gold lead the way back toward his car, offering his arm to Belle, so pleased when she took it again, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I'm sorry this day had to end." Belle said quietly once they'd settled into the car.

Mr. Gold started the engine and began to steer them on the route back to Storybrooke. "As am I, Miss French. It was good of you to come out." He glanced to her, and then back to the road ahead.

Belle smiled. "I wanted to. Really, I'd been looking forward to it since you invited me."

"Well, it was nice to see you outside rather than in the shop or the library."

"Hey, we've had breakfast at Granny's." Belle reminded him.

"Mmm. Twice in the space of a year, by my count." Gold agreed. "We may want to up that number."

Belle smiled, but kept silent.

The woman reached for his free hand and held it for the rest of their drive back home, everything unspoken but perfectly clear.

________________________________

Gold steered his Cadillac through the streets of Storybrooke, unable to stop himself from comparing his city to Sunshire.

Storybrooke was smaller, both in economy and in the measure of its tolerance. Had Gold walked arm in arm with Belle down the main street for everyone to see, or flirted with her over a shared dessert, well, they would hear no end of it.

Belle especially would suffer for sharing his company, he knew. The gossips could be vicious, and it wouldn't take more than an hour to spread tales of ridiculous depravity throughout the town. Belle's friends wouldn't believe it of them, but Granny, those damn nuns, and most anyone outside of her social circle would swallow whatever story they were fed.

They had been right to keep their connection a secret. She had been protected and he had enjoyed peace of mind.

Now, though...

Gold parked in front of her building and exited his vehicle to say goodnight. It wasn't nightfall just yet, the sky above them was twilight, a dusky lavender that only allowed the brightest of stars to shine through.

Belle got out of his car as well, and they stood together on the sidewalk before her building, facing each other. She studied him. The soft lines of his face, the contrasts of gray and brown in his hair, and his eyes. Dark whiskey brown, usually so gentle and calm. She had seen them burn for her, and there was a spark in his gaze now.

Mr. Gold reached forward to take her hand in his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.

Belle might have kissed him then and there, but they were both keenly aware that they would be seen. There were eyes everywhere - Granny was just down the street, sweeping the front sidewalk of her diner; Dr. Hopper was at the top of the block walking his Dalmatian, he even waved to them; Ashley and Jasmine were down at the other end of the street, laughing over something in the glow of their cell phone screens.

There were others, they knew. People who could see them from the windows of the surrounding buildings, people who could see them from passing traffic.

But none of that seemed to matter. Not with her hand in Mr. Gold's, with his thumb stroking her so gently. Not with this shy smile playing at his lips. Not with her heart ready to beat its way out of her chest.

"Miss French, I would-"

A loud car horn and a shout of "Hey, Belle!" snapped them out of the moment.

Startled, Belle turned from him, looking to the road and Gold followed her eyes. Marcus had just pulled up to them, his Mustang practically glowing with its fresh coat of paint, the restored engine purring under the hood. Marcus's dream machine was ready to take on the world.

Petty as it was, Gold couldn't help but notice how drab and out of trend his own vehicle appeared in comparison - just like the rest of him when compared to the other man, he frowned to note.

Belle glanced to Gold, her expression perfectly conveying the message - _I'm sorry, we have our roles to play._

She squeezed his hand and then let go, stepping over to address her friend, a false smile painted across her face. "Marcus, what're you up to?"

"I just got her painted, what do you think?"

"It's beautiful!"

Marcus glanced past her to see Mr. Gold standing near his classic Cadillac. "Mr. Gold, my pride and joy." He introduced the Mustang by revving the engine.

"I see your project is complete." Mr. Gold said noncommittally. "Is it as you hoped it would be?"

Marcus laughed, giddy with his achievement. "You tell me, sir." He said, revving the engine again. "I came out this way because I promised Belle before I even bought it that, once it was restored and road-ready, she would get the first ride." Marcus shifted attention back to her. "So what do you say, doll? Let's roll."

"Marcus, Mr. Gold and I were just-"

"We were just saying goodnight." Mr. Gold cut in.

Belle turned to him, her eyebrows raised. She could see the change in his eyes. The spark was gone. He was Mr. Gold again, but not _her_ Mr. Gold. It was clear that their moment had passed.

Belle stepped closer to him and gave a regretful smile, something like apology in her tone when she began, "Mr. Gold, I had a lovely time with you today. Sunshire was great, but I was happy for the chance to spend time with you."

The man nodded before she could finish, "I'm glad that you agreed to come out with me for the day, Miss French. We'll do it again."

Gold took hold of her hand then, and, feeling a touch reckless, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

Belle stared at him, her eyes wide, her pulse beating a hard tattoo of **Gold Gold Gold** through her blood.

Saying nothing, Gold inclined his head, dismissing her to the friend who waited for her in the superb vehicle restored by his own hands.

Watching her depart, Gold felt a touch of triumph even as he listened to the roar of the Mustang fading down the street.


	14. The Surprise Guest

He was laughing, hollering like a lunatic high on his own joy, and proud, so proud of the dream he'd built. For the first time in his life, everything was going right for Marcus Sawyer. Thanks to Mr. Gold's hefty business loan, he'd been able to open the auto-parts store, allowing him to become his own boss and a resource to the town.

The perfect opportunity rose to buy the 1965 Mustang convertible, his dream since he'd been a boy and fallen in love with cars. Months of work later, months of long weeks setting up his store and months spent working under the hood had produced the miracle that sped about Storybrooke.

And of course, his true love and his friends were always right there by his side.

Belle laughed along with him, so proud, so happy for her friend, and high on her own triumph of the night. "Marcus, this is beautiful! God, just look at it, it's perfect."

He slowed down for a traffic signal, unwilling to risk a ticket against his dream machine. "Thank you, Belle. It is perfect, it's just the way I wanted it, right down to the last detail."

"You're obsessed!"

"If I wasn't, then this car wouldn't look half as great as it does." The crossing traffic went on, and Marcus turned to look at her, noticing her lace dress and heels, her makeup and the bright flower in her hair for the first time. He gave a long wolf whistle, looking her up and down. "God, Belle, look at you! I definitely made the right choice to have you be the first woman in the car. You look great, I might put in a dress code before I let another woman sit in that seat."

Belle laughed and crossed her legs, showing him a bit more of her thigh. "Why, thank you! A girl has to look her best." She batted her lashes at the man, flirting and giddy.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. Belle was beautiful and always had been, but it had been some time since he'd seen her so done up. Usually her makeup was softer, her clothes more professional.

"What were you doing, all dressed up with Mr. Gold?" Marcus asked after he'd sped them up and down the main road of Storybrooke a few times, honking the horn and drawing all the attention he could.

Belle couldn't blame him for wanting to let the town know that months of his hard work and thousands of dollars spent on restoring the Mustang hadn't gone to waste. This car was more than a possession to him, it was a symbol of freedom and proof of accomplishment, a reminder to everyone who saw them that he was a brilliant mechanic and the man to see about anything on wheels.

But Belle faltered at his question - both the pawn shop and the library were closed on Sundays so she couldn't use either place as part of her white lie where Mr. Gold was concerned. She cleared her throat, thinking on her feet.

"I went to Sunshire this afternoon...I had a date, just someone I met online."

Belle wasn't sorry for the lie; the truth was far more complicated.

Marcus looked away from the road, to her for a second before turning his eyes back to the traffic. "Oh, yeah? How'd it go, you like the guy?"

"Not at all." Belle said, listing out the things she couldn't stand in a man. "He chewed with his mouth open, he was rude to the waitress and on top of that the tip he left her was barely 5%. You know how hard Ruby works, so it was a complete turn-off. I turned down his offer of a ride back home. I was at the bus stop when Mr. Gold recognized me and pulled up."

A blind date gone bad was easy enough to believe, and so Marcus did.

"Well, that's good. Better you got a ride with Gold than a creeper off the Internet...but Gold, he's practically a stranger to you too, isn't he?"

Belle shrugged, "I've shared a table with him a few times at Granny's and he's been to the library several times when he needs to research an antique for his shop. I'd never spoken to him before the library opened, though. It was sweet of him to take me home, he even let me choose the radio station."

That much, at least, was the truth.

Marcus nodded. "I didn't know you were dating again."

"I know, I just got an online offer to try this dating site for a month so I thought I'd give it a shot. I thought I'd just try, see who was out there. This time it just happened to be a creeper." Belle finished.

She would prefer to be honest with Marcus about how she'd really spent her day, about how she felt toward Mr. Gold, but she'd made an agreement to keep their connection discreet and she refused break her word.

Their friendship wasn't solely her secret to tell.

Marcus shrugged and revved the engine of his car once he pulled to a stop before another traffic light. "Well, I'm sorry your date fell through. Dating was stressful enough before people started using the Internet for blind dates and hook-ups." He said, reaching to stroke her hand. "I know that's not what you're looking for, but the problem is that most guys online are. You'll meet someone, Belle, and he'll be a great guy. But until then, just remember that you always have Shane and me to fall back on."

His reminder had her laughing, but she didn't want to go on lying about a first date that never happened. "Thank you, Marcus. This car is a dream."

Immediately, his attention was drawn back to his beloved project. "Isn't she? I named her Sally, you know, just like the song. It took me awhile to get the money together to afford the bucket seats and the new muffler I needed for this model..."

Belle was hardly listening as Marcus went on about the engine, the seats, the custom shade of paint...instead she was cradling her kissed hand and reliving her day out with Mr. Gold.

After an hour of cruising around Storybrooke, Marcus dropped Belle off with a kiss on her cheek and a smack to her rear, which in turn earned him a smack on the arm. Belle waved goodbye to him and made her way up to her apartment.

Finally, behind the closed door she could take off her heels and _think._

_Oh, Mr. Gold, Mr. Gold...what am I going to do with you?_

Belle took the orchids out from her hair and put them in a glass of water, hoping to prolong them, though she knew the delicate blooms would be done in a day or two. She carried her purse and the borrowed pair of heels into her bedroom, flopping back onto her bed, a dreamy smile on her face. Mr. Gold cared for her, it had been clear for anyone to see.

The care he took with her, the gifts, the very fact that he'd asked her to come out with him at all...the man wanted her, he had to, or else why bother with this charming courtship?

If he was courting, it was working.

Belle kissed her own knuckles, right where he'd placed his lips - a stolen kiss.

 _Courtship._ Belle mused to herself. _I'd rather he just ask to date me like any other man._

But Mr. Gold was unlike any other man in Storybrooke, and she wouldn't love him half as much if he was.

Still, the woman was impatient.

When would she feel his lips press to hers? When would his hands touch her, hold her? When would this dance of hesitation and want finally _end?_

 _I don't want to chase after him - I want him to chase me._ Belle asserted to herself. _I haven't wanted anything for myself in a long time, but I want something real with him._

Belle rolled off the bed and grumbled something to herself about the unfairness of her situation, but then reasoned that today had been remarkable progress. Mr. Gold had invited her out for the day, introduced her to his colleagues, taken her to lunch, given her a flower, bought her a teaset and issued an invitation to his house.

And then the kiss to her hand. Worlds more than she'd truly expected but not nearly enough...

Belle wondered about the invitation to his house, how long it would be before she actually crossed over his threshold.

 _It'll probably take us another year to get that far_ , Belle laughed to herself as she stepped out of her dress and into her glamorous sleepwear - an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

She washed off her makeup, removed her topaz earrings, the gold pins from her hair and her mother's necklace.

Belle stripped off her day in Sunshire and returned to her usual Storybrooke self.

______________________________

Gold parked his Cadillac in the driveway and then moved around to the front of the house to retrieve his mail, left in the box from Saturday. The man paused, listening. Distantly, he could hear the Mustang roaming through Storybrooke. Gold smiled, remembering his own wild years. Marcus Sawyer was a brash young man, but he'd worked for months on that car, let him have his fun showing off.

Of course, Gold would have preferred if Mr. Sawyer hadn't chosen that moment to pull up and interrupt his time with Belle, but it couldn't be helped now.

He'd had the woman to himself for the whole day, on his arm, at his table, by his side. He'd kissed her hand and she hadn't looked unsure of the contact, she hadn't even looked surprised. She'd looked happy, even aroused if her blush was any hint.

_I'll invite her to the house. We won't be interrupted here._

Gold didn't have a script or any moves in mind. Rather he thought he'd invite her over for lunch - no, dinner - and see where the evening took them.

Miss French _knew_. After today there was no way she couldn't.

He stripped off his suit jacket, waistcoat and tie, then emerged from his bedroom and mulled over what food he had left in his refrigerator. There were the makings for sandwiches, he could make spaghetti...but no.

It wasn't _food_ he was hungry for.

Belle's bright eyes and her smiles, her jokes and the scent of her perfume. Her wardrobe was a wonderful combination of sexy and charming and everything she said and did was always so perfectly _her._

What was he to do?

Gold had scared her off once before by coming on too strong, so if he were to drive back to her apartment right now and overwhelm her at the door with a kiss, a proper kiss, she wouldn't welcome that. He'd become a threat in her eyes, not a lover.

Gold eyed his keys, tempted. She might like it, though. Women were fickle that way.

He huffed, dismissing the idea.

They had had a lovely day out together - only the first of many, he hoped - and there was no reason to rush ahead and risk ruining their connection.

Gold took a glass of water in with him to the den and turned on the television to catch up on the news. Nothing good was happening in the outside world, though his native Scotland was to be voted on as an independent nation in the UK.

He thought on that, on what it might mean for the future...but he found it meant very little to him personally. Scotland wasn't home for him any longer, though he still loved it deeply. The memories he'd made there would always hold worlds of meaning to him, but Storybrooke was where he was and where he would remain for the rest of his days.

There was nothing else out in the world for him.

_No, not true._

The man looked away from the screen as it went to commercial, and saw the picture of Regina and Henry that he kept on the mantle over his fireplace. It was a silly candid shot, taken only a year or so ago during the town's Spring Fling. They were both smiling, Henry holding a bag of popcorn and Regina holding some pink flower he'd given to her.

That was another thing to consider. If he moved forward with Belle, where would that leave Regina and Henry?

_One day out with Miss French on my arm and I'm already so far ahead of myself, he thought._

But thinking on Regina and Henry reminded him of what he'd discussed with the woman earlier in the summer. Time was running out, he had to speak with her and learn where she stood.

Gold fished out his cell phone and dialed, leaving a message.

"Regina, it's me. I was in Sunshire all day and just got back into town. I'll be over tomorrow, it's time we spoke about Henry."

______________________________

Regina Mills moved about her kitchen, setting out breakfast for three. She prepped plates and bowls with fruit and honeyed oatmeal, eggs and sausage. She was mayor elect over Storybrooke, her cunning matched only by one man.

She thought of her mentor and smiled to herself as she took down _his_ cup, the red coffee mug he liked best out of the handful she kept in the cupboard. He would be up to the house soon, to discuss their arrangement, she knew.

Regina looked up, catching movement through the window. A moment later, there was the tapping of a cane against the back door. She smiled to see his blurred image through the window's frosted glass.

"Good morning, Gold." She greeted.

The man stood outside, his shoes a bit wet for having crossed the grass footpath to the back of the mayoral mansion. He was over to the residence several times a week, at all hours. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Gold was the man of the house.

"And to you, Regina." He returned.

She stepped aside to let him in, "Breakfast is ready. I'm out of tea, would you care for coffee?"

Mr. Gold nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She quirked her lips at his being so formal, as if they hadn't known each other for years, as if they hadn't been up through the night just days before, working close together on a zoning amendment and then later, on something else entirely.

"Stirring performance the other night, Regina." Gold remarked as he took a seat at the table, resting the cane over his lap. He'd meant to compliment her earlier, but he'd had no time to praise her after they'd been done. "I was impressed."

"But not surprised." She finished for him, smug over her prowess.

Gold smiled as she brought over his coffee, "I taught you well, dearie, and you've always been a quick study."

"Why, thank you."

He eyed her. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?

Regina moved to sit next to him at the small table. She had known that he would bring this up since he'd first asked her about it earlier in the summer. Weeks ago, the timing hadn't been right, but now they found themselves nearing the end of the season and the man deserved his answer.

She just wished she had a better one to give.

"I have...but I'm not ready. Not yet."

Gold furrowed his brow at that, and tried not to snarl. He didn't like this, her hesitance that would deny what would be best for them all. "We had an agreement. An _agreement_ , Regina." He said pointedly. "You've never been one to back out of a deal with me before."

She nodded. He was right, but she was a mother. "I know, but this is different. This is Henry."

"Yes, and he's why I'm making the offer. Don't you think it's time?"

"I'm just...I'm not ready to let him go yet." She shrugged, unsure of how to explain this, the instinct to keep her boy close at all times.

At that, Gold laughed a little. "What, don't tell me that you're afraid if I take him out, I won't give him back?"

"Can you blame me? You have a history of stealing children." She teased.

Gold put a hand over his eyes, "I didn't write that script last year, I just performed it."

Regina smiled, remembering him on the library stage with Belle French, his co-star for the night. Henry still attended the plays, and he couldn't understand why Mr. Gold hadn't been brought back to perform again.

"That was such a fun night for us. I still have the pictures on my cell. Henry just loved you, all dressed up in your cape and hood, changing your voice."

Gold cracked out a mad, high-pitched giggle for her, brining out what had been rechristened his _Rumplestiltskin_ voice. "Well, dearie, the boy has good taste, though he didn't get it from you!" Gold teased her, and then cleared his throat, returning to his normal tone. "Now, Regina, back to it. We agreed that once Henry was old enough, you'd let me have more time with him."

"I know, it's just difficult to let go."

"No one understands that better than me." He said lowly, and Regina was sorry to have stirred his memories. "But a boy needs to learn how to become a man, from a man."

Regina reached across the table to put her hand over his, gratitude in her touch. "I know that you're right. We can ask him when he comes down."

Gold and Regina went on chatting for another twenty minutes before Henry wandered into the kitchen, seeking breakfast. He was a lanky boy with mussed brown hair, wearing a t-shirt with black cotton pants, sleepy eyes widening happily to see their guest, though Mr. Gold had been a familiar face in their house for years. "Good morning, Mr. Gold."

Gold smiled at the boy. "Good morning, Henry. Sleep well?"

"Yes. I like waking up later, it'll be hard to go back to waking up early for school."

"You have some time before the school year starts up again. All the better to live it up the rest of your summer vacation, I should think."

"What do you mean?" Henry asked him as he took a seat at the table, tucking into the plate his mother served him.

Gold looked to Regina, who nodded her approval. Gold went on, "Tell me, how does a few days of fishing, hunting and camping out in the woods sound to you?"

Henry's eyes widened, "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes. Your mother and I were talking, and if you wanted, you could come up to spend a few days with me in my cabin."

The boy's face split in a wide smile. "That sounds great! We can really go hunting?"

"Yes, now that you're old enough."

"No guns." Regina cut in. "But Mr. Gold can show you how to set snares for little things like rabbits. And you'll go fishing for trout and bass. Oh, and the camping, Henry! You'll get to see all the stars when you're sleeping out there in the woods."

"You've been to the cabin, mom?" Henry asked her.

Regina looked to Gold and they shared a warm look, their minds fading back to a weekend spent at the cabin, years ago. Regina the city girl's introduction to the wilderness.

She nodded. "Yes, a long time ago. I caught my first fish in the river that runs behind Mr. Gold's cabin, I'll always remember that."

Gold laughed at the memory. "So will I. You'd thrown lines all morning, and when you finally reeled in that little fish, you didn't know what to do so you just screamed for help." He turned to the boy. "You should have seen her, Henry. I came out of the cabin to see your mother on the edge of the water, too terrified to touch this fish that couldn't have been bigger than her own hand."

Henry brightened at the story, he loved to hear about his mother's adventures with Mr. Gold before she became the mayor. "Really? I want to go fishing! I'll catch one and I won't be afraid to touch it."

Regina touched her son's hair, combing it with her fingers. She bent down and kissed the crown of his head. "My brave boy."

"Pack a bag, Henry. We'll head out around lunch time. Who knows? We might even catch our dinner."

Scarfing down his breakfast, Henry ran back upstairs to do as he'd been told.

Regina looked to Gold. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes. It'll be good for him."

The woman nodded and reached to touch his hand. "I think it'll be good for you, too."

______________________________

Days after their adventure to Sunshire, Belle decided to drop in on Mr. Gold to see where they stood. He had left for business on Monday and Tuesday, but the sign on the door of his shop had promised his return by Wednesday. He hadn't mentioned plans to leave again, but this wasn't his disappearance from the winter, this was only two days.

On Thursday she left the library at noon, checking herself in the office mirror before heading down to the pawn shop. She saw him inside, and stepped in through the door but her usual greeting halted in her throat as his sudden gesture for silence.

Belle furrowed her brows in confusion and approached the counter. The crooning jazz on his sound system was turned down low, and he spoke not a word as she came closer. She followed him as he moved to draw back the curtain to the work room, revealing a sleeping toddler in a baby carrier set on the surface of his cleared work table.

Ah, the reason for his silence.

Belle and Mr. Gold moved back into the front of the shop, their voices just over a whisper.

"Should I be congratulating you?" Belle asked. She half-expected him to admit that, yes, some old flame of his had dropped off this surprise on the doorstep.

Mr. Gold shook his head, "She's not mine, Miss French."

A funny look came over Belle's face, "Oh my God, please tell me you didn't-"

"Didn't what? Finally make good on my word to take a debtor's firstborn?" Gold gave her an evil smile. "Your script was the inspitation for it, really. The client knew what my price was when he signed on the dotted line. That baby is mine now, I just wish I could be there when he explains his failure to he child's mother."

"Very funny." Belle deadpanned. "Come on, Mr. Gold, what're you doing with a baby?"

Gold shrugged, "All right, fine. She's my tailor's daughter. I'm just looking after her while he's making a court appearance."

"He's in _court?"_

"It's nothing serious, he's just clearing a traffic ticket. He should be back for her in another half hour." He said, checking his watch. "Good man and a single father, his regular day sitter fell through and so asked for the favor."

Belle laughed quietly. "Mr. Gold, a babysitter."

The man shrugged. "She's no trouble. She's easy, for a girl child." Off her look, he went on, "I've heard that girls can be more difficult, but I wouldn't know it myself. We...there was no daughter for us."

Belle remembered that he'd told her as much once before.

"I've heard that too, that girls are fussier."

"She's growing very quickly. Sweet child." Gold glanced back, checking on the baby. He looked back to Belle, seeing the strange, wistful expression on her face. "What?"

She blinked and smiled. "Ah, it's nothing, Mr. Gold. Just don't let anyone find out about this, if people knew you were soft for children then no one would ever be afraid of you again."

"Children are precious, even I know that, but you're right as always." He cleared his throat. "To protect my reputation, this will need to remain strictly between us."

Belle nodded. "Do you watch her very often?"

"Ah, on occasion. She's probably the only one in town who gets excited to see me."

Belle nudged him. "I can think of someone else who does, can't you?"

Gold smiled, feeling foolish, silly in the best of ways. He reached and stroked his fingertips over Belle's exposed forearm, ending the gentle caress by grasping her hand, again stroking the pad of his thumb over the backs of his fingers.

From the other side of the curtain, a whining little voice began to cry.

"Ah, duty calls. Excuse me."

Mr. Gold let go of her hand and limped past the curtain. Belle watched as he bent over the carrier, uncoupling the strap and lifting the baby out of the seat.

Her crying had stopped as soon as he lifted her, and Belle could hear him humming, his voice lower than his usual timber as his hands were careful to secure the wriggling body against his chest and shoulder.

"There we are, lass. Calm it down, now. Just a bad dream, eh?" The baby was too young to speak, but she murmured something in reply to the man, and he smiled as she settled down.

Gold held her, which it seemed was all the baby had wanted after waking in a strange place. Belle remained standing in the doorway, feeling out of place, like she was invading on some private moment. But Mr. Gold was not a father, the baby he held was not his child.

He turned to look at her. "Would you like to hold her?"

"Oh, please." Belle smiled and reached for the chubby toddler, but to her surprise, the baby gave a displeased squeal and held tighter to Mr. Gold, burying her face into his chest, hiding.

"Oh, she doesn't like me."

It stung her pride to be rejected by this baby who found more comfort in the arms of the town terror than in the arms of a woman.

"No, no, she's just grumpy when she wakes up. Sometimes she can be shy." Gold reassured her, cradling the girl to his chest and stroking her back. "It takes time for her to warm up to strangers."

Belle watched as Mr. Gold simply held the child, swaying slightly and humming again. The baby leaned back to look at him, and her little hands began groping at his face, grasping at his mouth and nose. Gold closed an eye to avoid her probing fingers.

There was a strange lurching in her chest at the sight of Mr. Gold with the toddler. It made her eyes sting with tears and her lips curl into a smile. It had to be her hormones, her maternal instincts rising at the sight of a man, _this_ man, holding a baby with such care.

Gold hummed at the child and thankfully refrained from any baby-talk nonsense, "Easy, now. Miss French is a friend. Your father is coming, love. No worries, he wouldn't leave you here at the shop."

The man secured her in his arm and moved to the front of the shop before setting her down on the floor so that she might stretch her legs a bit now that she'd woke from her nap.

Belle watched from the doorway that connected the front and the back room of the shop, curious about this pup of a person who was just standing there on the floor in her little pink t-shirt and yellow shorts. The baby stood, one hand crammed into her mouth, drooling as her eyes wandered her surroundings, seeing more than a million things within reach to touch and taste.

Then, the baby looked up at Mr. Gold and her face lit up in a gummy smile, revealing a few teeth, and she did an odd, bouncy little dance. Clearly, she was happy to see the man and clearly, she wouldn't react this way if she wasn't familiar with him.

Gold reached down and let her hold one of his fingers in her tiny hand, and began to lead her on a walk about the shop floor. "The shop isn't baby-proof. I usually have her at the house." He told Belle.

"Usually?" She pressed.

"Ah, I might watch her a bit more than just occasionally...it's been twice a month for the past seven months, now." He confessed.

"Really? I had no idea."

"Yes, well, even monsters can have their moments."

"You're not a monster, Mr. Gold." Belle insisted. "Even the baby knows it."

Gold circled the shop floor with the toddler several times as he spoke with Belle, their usual ease with each other in place despite the toddler who held most of his attention.

"Miss French, would you like to come over to my house this weekend? I have - oof!"

The baby, who had been walking just beside Gold's right leg, chose that moment to charge forward, lunging against his cane and throwing him off-balance. He stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of the counter to keep from falling to the floor.

His cane clattered to the ground and the baby, startled by the noise, began to cry.

Belle swooped in, picking the baby up along with his cane. She handed the cane back to Mr. Gold, who righted himself, though he was clearly embarrassed by his loss of balance.

Belle didn't pay much attention to the flaming color over his cheekbones, her focus was instead centered on the wriggling toddler in her arms. The baby squealed and fussed, writhing, but went still as Belle began to hum at her just as Mr. Gold had done minutes earlier.

Gold watched fondly as the baby quieted in Belle's arms, the child seeming suddenly entranced by the new face before her.

Belle smiled and looked at Gold. "I guess she likes me after all."

And that's when the baby chose to reach forward and poke Belle in the eye. Belle yelped and turned her face away, but her secure grip on the child didn't waver. "Ow!"

"Miss French, perhaps I'll just..." Gold let the offer to take the baby hang in the air between them. He didn't want to imply that Belle had no affinity for toddlers, it was only that he clearly had more experience.

"Yes, that might be a good idea." Belle laughed in good-nature. Her left eye was red and teary, the toddler had been rough on them both. "I guess being a woman doesn't give me any automatic advantage when it comes to kids."

"Everything will come in time, Miss French." He reassured her as he took the baby.

Just then the shop door opened and a harried young man in a summer weight suit of pale grey came inside. Belle immediately took a step back, distancing herself from Mr. Gold in an attempt to make herself look like just another browsing customer.

"Gold, thank you so much, the damn court line took longer than I'd thought it would."

Ah, the baby's father had come back. Belle picked up a little curio and pretended to look it over, when really she was studying this man who trusted Mr. Gold with his child. He was handsome, and clearly trying to make the best of the daily stresses put on him as a single father.

Belle wondered what had become of the girl's mother, and if he was in the lookout for a woman to play stepmother any time soon.

The baby writhed in Mr. Gold's arms, so the man set her down and she rushed over to her father, gripping him about the knees, murmuring "Da, da, da". He bent to pick her up, nuzzling her cheek and making the baby giggle.

It was adorable to see, and Belle did not miss the longing expression on Mr. Gold's face as he watched them.

"It was no trouble." Mr. Gold said to the younger man.

Belle went on browsing through the shop as Mr. Gold went over all that had gone on with the baby, leaving out her nearly bringing him to his knees and not mentioning Belle at all.

The man, who Gold only addressed as Jefferson, made quick work of securing the girl back into her carrier and leaving, very thankful for his friend's help.

"She's a sweetie." Belle said once the pair had left, babbling happily to each other.

Gold looked down, frowning at his cane. "She is. He's lucky."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine...just not used to being toppled by toddlers." Gold said, the false smile sliding from his face. He'd learned to live with his injury, and though Belle had accepted it as just another part of him, he was still loathe to have shown weakness before her in such a way.

_The fearsome Mr. Gold, brought to his knees by a toddler._

The woman shook her head, understanding his embarrassment but not sure how to help. "Shes stronger than she looks, she just caught you off-guard, the sneaky thing." He didn't smile at that, so she jumped onto another subject.

From there, they went on to talk of the usual goings-on about town.

Mr. Gold did not try again to invite her to his house.

Belle pretended not to notice.

______________________________

It was three weeks after their afternoon adventure to Sunshire, with their routine more or less reestablished. Gold had not kissed Belle's hand again - or any other part of her, much to their shared regret. They still saw each other at the library and met at his shop to talk, but there was a distinct change between them. Looks that lingered, soft touches to his bare hand and clothed shoulder, softer touches to the small of her back.

Belle had stopped seeing him during her lunch breaks, instead she'd taken to visiting just at the shop's closing. This way, there was less of a stress on their time together. Less of a chance that someone would see them together and spread a story that would stretch on to the depraved with each retelling.

Sipping tea, a blend of his own (plain China green tea on his doctor's recommendation to maintain his health, though he would have preferred one of Belle's more exotic blends), Gold looked out the window, to the construction outside of her apartment building.

Florence & The Machine was on the sound system, the volume turned low on _Seven Devils_ so they might concentrate on the checker board.

Gold eyed the work that'd already begun on the building just days ago. "Looks like they're taking your whole building apart over there."

Belle set her cup aside and pondered the board before her. It was late, late enough for the shop to be closed, but not so late that Gold was ready to forfeit their game of checkers. He wouldn't let her leave now even if she'd wanted to.

In her early explorations of the back room, Belle had found the game gathering dust on a shelf and asked that Mr. Gold play her. In the months of their friendship, they had gone to war on the board several times and though Belle had come close, she had yet to best him.

So there they were, playing on the counter after hours. Belle hadn't realized how competitive the man was, he'd even woven a deal into the outcome of their game: if ( _when_ )he beat her, she would come over to make him a meal in his home. Gold confessed to having grown spoiled by the lunches she often brought into the shop, which was something of a compliment, really.

And if, _by some miracle_ (his words, Belle had only rolled her eyes at his arrogance) she beat him, then she was clearly ready for a new challenge and he would teach her to play chess.

Like all his deals, this friendly wager would favor him, no matter the outcome.

"Just about, yes." Belle nodded and counted off on her fingers, "Last I heard, they're rewiring the electrical system, refitting most of the plumbing, all of the units will be getting upgraded appliances, new carpeting and repainted, there's going to be a renovation of the lobby floor and some foundation work, I think. The building needs it though, it'll be beautiful when they finish. And me, I'd rather be out of my place for a time than see them bulldoze whole block."

Gold lifted an eyebrow at her, "You're not there?"

Belle tucked a curl behind her ear, "I can't, they'll be cutting off the power and water for days at a time, and then working with heavy chemicals so it's not safe. I'm out for a few weeks at least, most of the other tenants are already over at Granny's. Ruby told me it's the first time the inn has been fully booked in years."

Gold's ears pricked up at the news, his thoughts flying immediately to his hunger for more of her company. _More. Oh, yes._

"I have a few spare rooms, you can stay with me." He gave the offer so freely that she might have thought he didn't care one way or the other, as was his intent. He moved a black checker and glanced up to find her watching him.

Belle reached across the board to put her hand over his, "Thank you, that's very generous Mr. Gold, but I've already gone back to staying at my father's."

Disappointed, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snidely reminding her to hide her jewelry, but was thankfully interrupted by a few hard knocks at the front door. Ah, there always seemed to be someone about to break their moments together.

Belle's irritated expression perfectly echoed his own feelings as he gestured for her to go into the back room while he attended to whoever had come knocking at the front.

The woman was used to it by now.

Still, it was late, and Belle had to wonder who would be coming over now to deal with Mr. Gold rather than during his regular business hours. The rumors that surrounded Gold, all of his secret dealings, the proof was here tonight.

She could hear his accented voice and the voice of another man though she could not distinguish who it might be. For a moment, she thought that the voice was similar to those of both Dr. Whale and David Nolan.

But Belle refused to eavesdrop on the men, whatever they were discussing was not her business, and she would rather turn a blind eye - or ear, in this case - to any of Mr. Gold's private dealings that might ruin the image of him she would like to hold onto for a bit longer. Just as she would prefer for him to think of her in the best way, rather than for him to see the flaws she fought to keep hidden.

Venturing further into the back room, Belle took a picture of one of the newly restored paintings set aside for a private buyer in Philadelphia, and set it to be the background screen of her cell phone. There was plenty to look at, to be sure, but she was more interested in the man than in his latest tinkering projects.

She could still hear Mr. Gold talking with the man up front, so she sat down, leaning back slightly against the headboard of the little bed he kept in the back room and glanced through her texts. It had been a long, stressful week. She, Ruby and a few others had plans to run amok the following night - a girls' night out would be perfect but for now...

Distantly, she felt something gently trace down over the curve of her cheek. She twitched, trying to ignore it, but then felt a hand on her shoulder, giving a shake to pull her awake. "...Belle...Belle..."

Belle started awake, blinking to find Mr. Gold sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, his hip resting just next to her thigh. "Oh, Mr. Gold."

"That business up front took longer than it should have, I see you've made yourself comfortable."

Belle shifted on the little bed, sitting up straighter and reached for her cell, she'd dropped it in her lap. Checking the time, she was surprised to see that she must have been sleeping for nearly an hour!

"Oh, God, Mr. Gold, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

He shook his head, "It's quite all right. I knew you'd get bored of me sooner or later, but I didn't think I was so boring I put you to sleep."

Belle laughed. "Oh, stop it. You know I don't think you're boring. You're the most interesting man in the world to me." She reminded him. "I've just been having a hard time sleeping."

He looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I...yes, I'm sorry, it's just been a long week. I sat down for a second and I was out like a light." Belle laughed with a quick snap of her fingers, hoping her smile hid her embarrassment.

_Falling asleep in the back of the shop, what was I thinking? Why not just stretch out to take a nap on the front counter while I'm at it?_

"Quite all right. I was thinking of turning the back room into a B&B, maybe give Granny's a bit of competition." He mused, still seated beside her.

"I'll be your first customer, this bed is irresistible." Belle patted the mattress. "Who did it belong to?"

"I moved it from my house."

"This is yours?"

Gold nodded, "Several years ago I was doing some rearranging and I didn't want it in the house any longer, but all the same I couldn't part with it. Nowadays I just use it when I need to rest the leg." He shrugged and tapped the floor with his cane.

"Your old war wound?" She asked carefully.

The reason behind Gold's limp was still a mystery, but Belle had learned that he wasn't so sensitive that the topic was off-limits. He'd even let her try walking about the front of the shop with his cane a few times so she could know what it was like.

"Something like that." Gold stood and offered his hand. Belle put her hand in his and let him pull her to stand from the bed. "Come on, it's late. I'll give you a ride to your father's."

Belle shook her head, "You don't have to do that."

"It's late. I'll drive you." His voice was firm, there would be no argument here.

______________________________

After closing up the shop, it was an easy drive to Moe French's tired little house on the southern stretch of Storybrooke. The town itself wasn't a place of great flashes of wealth; Storybrooke was quaint, simple, modest. Aside from Mr. Gold and the mayor, those who made up the tiny, wealthier area of the town were made up of only a handful of lawyers, doctors and retirees who mostly kept to themselves.

Still, French's house was in the poorest of the poor blocks, a shabby little three bedroom house that had seen much better days. The house itself had potential, but had suffered the neglect of its owner for over a decade, leaving it badly in need of proper maintenance and landscaping care.

Gold didn't like to think of Belle being in this neighborhood, but then again, she had grown up here, and had already made her choice to stay for the time being. She could handle herself, brave little thing that she was.

He parked just before the driveway to her father's house and turned to her. "End of the line, Miss French."

In the dark, he could not make out her features but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Kicking me out?"

"Afraid so."

Belle reached over and touched his shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Gold, I appreciate the lift."

"My pleasure."

"Have a good night." Belle grabbed her purse and unbuckled her seat belt.

"You do the same - and, Miss French?"

"Hmm?"

"It would be better if your whereabouts tonight remained between us."

Belle faltered at the reminder. "I-I understand."

"Thank you. Good night Miss French."

Gold waited in the driver's seat, the engine idling. He would not drive off until he saw her enter the house. It was a small thing to drive her home, and if it painted him in a chivalrous light, Gold wasn't too proud to use that to his advantage.

He watched as she approached the little house, but she stopped short just before pushing through the front door. Rather than go inside, Belle turned back to approach the car once again. Gold lowered the window, "Did you forget something?"

Belle shook her head. "Can I...is your offer still on the table?"

"What offer?"

Belle glanced over her shoulder, back to the house, then back to him. "You said you have a spare room - it'd just be for tonight."

Gold nodded, beckoning her to retake her seat. "Of course, is everything all right?"

Belle slipped back into the car, "Um, yeah, yes, Mr. Gold. Everything's fine. I just forgot it's poker night, when dad has his friends over things can get pretty rowdy and I never get any sleep."

He looked at her, sitting there beside him in the dark, her face barely visible in the illumination of the street lights outside. Belle was obviously lying to him, but Gold didn't mind that. Now that he'd lowered the window, he could hear loud music and the rowdy laughing, cursing and carrying on of men and women from inside the house.

"If you're sure, Miss French."

Here, she turned to look at him. "Please?"

Mr. Gold said nothing, but he threw the Cadillac into gear, and headed toward his house.

______________________________

The drive across Storybrooke was spent in silence. Avila sang out to them through the radio, a slow cover of _All Shook Up_ , leaving them with their thoughts. Certainly, Gold had not expected Belle as his guest for the night, but he was excited to have her to himself. He didn't expect anything from her, it was only that his home was more secure than his shop as he rarely had visitors to the residence - God willing, they wouldn't be interrupted again.

Even Regina knew to keep her distance from his house unless he extended the invitation.

But he'd invited Belle, and she'd accepted his offer of hospitality because...well, because his house would be quieter than her father's on a Friday night, apparently.

Pulling the car to a stop in the drive, Gold lead Belle into the back entrance of his house, which opened into the kitchen. The man turned on the soft overhead light and set his keys on the counter, his friend trailing just a few feet behind.

He was happy to have Belle under his roof, with any luck it would reflect his visit to her apartment on the night of the storm. Mr. Gold, the man who dared to hope for a film followed by a warm cuddle on the sofa.

"A tea before bed, Miss French?"

"I - sure." Belle said in distraction as she turned in a circle, trying to look at everything all at once. "God, I can't believe I'm in your house."

Gold flashed a quick smile before retrieving his plain tea blend and a pair of cups from a cabinet beside the stove. He couldn't remember the last time one of his mugs had been joined by a sibling in use for a guest. It'd been over a year, he was sure of that.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Belle peering out the window to the backyard. It was too dark, though. There wouldn't be much she could see until the sun came up again in the morning.

He liked that, the thought of Belle in his garden. "And is my house everything you hoped it would be?"

"It's beautiful. I mean that, it's gorgeous. I love these Queen Anne houses, the bones alone are unmistakable." She told him as she ran her hand over the paneling of the back doors. It was one thing to pass by the house from the street, it was another to actually be inside with the man who owned it.

Gold shook his head, "I can't take much credit for that. All I've done since moving in is fill it with my collections."

"Your collections?"

Gold readied their cups and motioned for her to join him. Being in fine practice, they took the same positions as at his shop: Gold standing on one side of the counter with Belle perched on a barstool just across from him. "Oh, yes. Over the years I gained such an appetite for rare things that I had to open the shop just to keep track."

Belle took a tentative sip, letting the calm base flavor roll over her tongue. "You mean your shop is really just storage?"

Gold lifted his cup for a cheers, and Belle lightly tapped her cup to his. "Precisely."

"You just might be a hoarder."

Gold raised his brows at her, "I wouldn't go that far, everything I keep has value."

"All hoarders say that!" Belle laughed at him.

Smiling openly now, Gold dared her to let him prove the value of his collections. "Tomorrow I'll take you through the house, a little tour so you can see for yourself. Aside from the artwork and artifacts, I have a handful of first editions I know you'd appreciate."

"I wouldn't say no-" A yawn interrupted her words, the long week catching up with her again. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Gold looked concerned, and really, he was. That Belle would ask to stay with him rather than return to her father was enough reason to worry after the woman. But Belle had declared herself in need of a bed, and Gold would not keep her from it any longer, no matter that he would gladly sit and talk with her through the night.

"No need to apologize. You're tired, Miss French. Please, sit tight and I'll get your room ready."

Gold left Belle to her tea in the kitchen, making a quick stop to his own bedroom for a pair of pajamas and then went on up the stairs to the large bedroom he intended for her. He stood outside the closed door, then took a deep breath before entering _that_ room.

He opened the door and checked that there was no dust on the desk or nightstand, and that the bedding was fresh.

Good.

His cleaning service was earning its keep, and Belle deserved no less. He left the pajamas for her on the nightstand and returned to the kitchen to fetch his surprise guest.

______________________________

Belle narrowed her eyes as she paged through an old cookbook she'd pulled off a shelf. Many of the dinner recipes she'd looked over had handwritten notes in the margins, apparently enhancing dishes deemed too plain.

A dash of seasoning here, an extra tablespoon of cream there...Mr. Gold didn't strike her as being particularly creative in the kitchen, so who-?

But then she recalled that he'd been married before. These weren't his notes she was reading, they were his wife's.

Suddenly an old cookbook felt like something deeply personal, and she returned it. A moment later, Mr. Gold reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Miss French, if you'll follow me, please."

Belle hopped off the barstool and followed him upstairs to the second floor, down a dimly lit hallway, to the third door on the right. Her eyes were hungry for details, but there were none. The walls of the staircase and the hallway were painted a tasteful cream, lined with dark stained wood wainscoting. But there were no pictures to look at, no paintings or photographs. Strange that a man of numerous collections would keep the walls so bare.

She eyed his cane as she followed him. Perhaps he didn't spend much time upstairs, and she wondered guiltily if his leg was pained now, from going up and down the stairs to make sure she had a comfortable place to sleep.

"It's just through there." He said, standing outside the open door. Gold did not put a toe across the threshold as Belle moved into the room.

"Oh, wow! This is beautiful!" Belle gushed as she took it all in.

Dark wood floors matched the wainscoting throughout the house, the upper walls were painted a soft baby blue. A bay window was on the wall opposite to her, she could see down the street from that view.

Moving further into the room, Belle saw that a door lead into an empty walk-in closet, while another lead into what she presumed was a bathroom. A lovely desk and chair were set against the wall, but the star of this bedroom was the bed itself. A high queen on a dark wood frame, the headboard carved with leaves and swirling vines. The comforter atop the bed was white goosedown, as were the matching pillows. A faux fur throw of silver grey was folded at the foot of the bed.

"Again, I can't take any credit. I didn't decorate it, I've just kept it maintained over the years. You can wear those tonight." He offered, gesturing into the room.

Belle stepped over and found a pair of men's pajamas neatly folded atop the nightstand, a dark royal blue. She turned back to him, "For me?"

"You've only the clothes on your back."

For a flash, Belle was tempted to tell him that she preferred to sleep in the nude, but given the tension between them lately she kept her mouth shut. The woman was so drawn to him, she would welcome it if he came to her with more carnal intentions, but the longer he waited in expressing himself outright, the more Belle began to wonder if she'd built things between them too far up in her own imaginings.

Mr. Gold may be too important a man, and too dignified besides, to bother with anything more serious than bedding someone like her for a brief time.

Belle didn't believe she deserved much out of life, but she deserved more than that.

"They won't fit, but they'll do for tonight, yes?"

Gold's question pulled Belle out of her thoughts, snapping her back into the moment. She ran her fingers over the fine cotton and was not surprised at its softness - Mr. Gold took great pride in how he dressed, of course that same care would extend to his sleepwear. "You're right, these won't fit, but this color will definitely bring out my eyes."

Gold didn't understand why that would matter, but then again, Belle did like to joke with him. "Very important for sleepwear." He drawled.

"A girl has to keep her priorities. Thank you so much Mr. Gold."

Belle did something on impulse then, something she'd been wanting to do for so long but there never seemed an appropriate moment to do so. Well. The man had opened his home to her, this temple of charm and art, and he was her friend, besides.

Before he could turn down the hallway, Belle stepped in and twined her arms around his waist, drawing him close for a tight embrace. Belle pressed in to him, and she was relieved that the man returned her hug rather than just stand rigid; she felt one of his hands span across the middle of her back while the other remained at his side, gripping the cane.

After several warm moments, Mr. Gold pulled back from her, his hand sliding down to rest on the dip of her waist before he reached to hold her hand, his fingers squeezing hers gently. Their hug was a brief embrace, and Belle couldn't expect anything more than that.

Still, tonight was a landmark.

Mr. Gold stood before her, so close, his eyes roaming her face. Perhaps he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, he told her instead, "I'm in the room just below if you need anything."

He lifted her hand, kissing her again. It was not the chaste kiss to her knuckles from that night outside her apartment with half the town watching. Mr. Gold stroked over her fingers with his thumb, then pressed his lips to the back of her hand. His lips, his breath was hot over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine and a wave of gooseflesh to rise over her body entire. Still holding her hand, he turned it, then kissed the cup of her palm, and then another, softer kiss to the pulse point in her wrist.

"Good night, Miss French."

Belle could barely hear herself answering "Good night, Mr. Gold" over the blood throbbing through her. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on her hand, the gentle strength of his grasp.

_This man..._

Belle lingered in the doorway, watching as he moved down the corridor and out of sight. She turned to the room, closing the door behind her and taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Mr. Gold could excite her so quickly, with just a few kisses to her hand. Belle felt her face on fire, heat flooding through her body with arousal. She fanned her face, wondering what she should do, if anything.

 _I should chase him downstairs and jump into his bed,_ Belle thought wildly. 

She shook her head, laughing at herself. Trying to dispel the heat lingering in her cheeks, she stepped into the bathroom, surprised to find double sinks, and splashed cold water on her face, trying to focus.

 _Mr. Gold cares for you, and he may want you, but don't let yourself assume anything._ Belle reminded herself.

She rubbed a hand over her face and, yawning again, Belle changed out of her clothes, stripping down to just her panties before putting on Gold's pajamas, enveloping herself in his softness and scent. Looking herself over in the mirror, she found she was right - his pajamas were too big, but their color did make her eyes look even brighter.

Belle looked over the handful of books that lined a shelf on the desk set against the far wall, noting that all of the spines were cracked from repeated readings, the pages long since yellowed with age. She was an avid reader, but Belle's eyes were so tired; she wouldn't be starting any novels tonight.

Instead, she tapped out a quick text to let her father know she was staying overnight with a friend, careful as always to leave Mr. Gold's name out of it. Not that it mattered; she was sure that Moe was so far into his drinks and games by now that he wouldn't even bother to check his phone until later on the next day.

As for Mr. Gold, the man had opened his home to her, but he also valued his privacy and was quite formal - he would not want it known to others that he'd had her overnight in his house, no matter how innocent this had all been.

She put her cell back into her purse and killed the lights, getting under the covers. She sighed happily, reveling in her infatuation, recalling those fleeting moments when he would look at her or say something that gave her a spark of hope that they could have something real.

It was a dim spark, however. Mr. Gold was so formal that they had known each other for over a year and she could count on one hand the number of times that he'd called her Belle, and each time he had caught himself, apologized and resumed calling her Miss French.

And Belle was sure she had never even learned his first name - how odd!

Yes their situation was so odd, but Belle liked it and she liked him. He was so dignified, with his old world roots and his sharp suits and even sharper mind. Belle was sure she'd learned more in her secret visits with him than she had in all the books she'd read at the library. He was endlessly fascinating to her.

She thought back to the day he'd insisted that she try on the Grecian necklace. For a few thrilling moments, the man had seemed so intense, as if he'd been barely able to restrain himself from pouncing on her. And she wouldn't have put up a fight if he had. She would have welcomed him...but could he want her for anything meaningful?

Belle knew she was beautiful in his eyes, but she wasn't stupid. In the past, Gold had treated her with such polite distance, save for the odd dark look here and there, that she had been sure he'd no interest in making much room in his life for someone like her.

But now, after their last few visits...who could say?

Mr. Gold was a difficult man to read. He would flirt with her, but never cross the line. He would do everything just short of expressing something real, but then he would pull back, and that wall, that invisible gulf between them would open again. It was a cycle of off-balance moves, she could never be sure where the man stood.

Belle was tired of it, to be sure, but mostly she was just tired.

The bed was pulling her deeper and deeper into sleep.

Soon, Belle had slipped into the cradle of her dreams, with Mr. Gold holding her in his arms.

______________________________

Downstairs, just a floor below his surprise houseguest, Gold was very slow in undressing himself once he retired to his bedroom. His movements were deliberately slow in the half-hope that Belle would come down, needing something from him. He had no desire for her to see him wearing pajamas near identical to the pair he'd leant to her; without his suits, his formal armor, he only appeared slighter and with his cane, he worried he would become wholly frail in her eyes. If however, she were to knock on the door and he answered her without his jacket, waistcoat or tie, he could at least still hide behind the exquisite tailoring of his shirt and trousers.

Ridiculous, but he was as insecure as anyone when faced with an infatuation.

Two hours after having left Belle to the guest room, which in actual fact had been the room he'd once shared with his wife, Gold had changed into his pajamas and was staring at the television with blank eyes. God knows he couldn't concentrate on the show playing when Belle was upstairs, in the room just above his head.

What was she doing up there, if she wasn't already asleep? Was she reading? There were a few books in the desk - a mix of his mysteries and Milah's biographies. Whatever she was doing, Belle wasn't in bed with him.

The man tried not to think of her in such a vulgar way, riding atop him with true abandon or on her knees, eagerly taking him between her lips, but that part of his mind would not allow such thoughts to be shut out.

_He wanted her._

Not only as a lover, but with him, in his house, in his life.

His control was eroding, it had been ever since the day she'd fluttered into his shop and found a way to befriend him. He could feel bits of it slip away with every hour they spent together.

He shouldn't have kissed her hand again, at least, not in the way he'd kissed it. He'd held her hand too long, stroking her fingers, letting his eyes linger on the matte shamrock green polish of her manicure. Then, he'd kissed the back of her hand, her palm and her pulse. He let his lips linger over her skin, breathing in her scent, taking her into himself.

He shouldn't have kissed her hand, but he couldn't regret it, either. Not when he'd seen her eyes go dark, the flush that colored her cheeks. His advances, subtle as they were, excited her.

He heard a soft _creak_ , then another and another, moving above his room. Footsteps. Belle was awake, but her movements were confined to the bedroom above his. She did not open the door. She did not come to him.

 _It's just as well_ , he decided.

She might indulge him for a bit, out of curiosity or perhaps her own infatuation - but Gold would rather they continue with their clandestine friendship than have an affair that would only end in an awkward parting of ways with no chance of reconciling.

Still it was too tempting not to think on, what she might look like under her demure dresses, how soft her skin must be. He was helpless to his imagination, his mind speculating on every inch of the woman.

That hug she's pulled him into wasn't helping anything, either. He hadn't expected that. It had been a surprise, but even more dangerous had been his own reaction: he'd not been embraced in years, and damn her, she'd drawn him in and he'd been helpless to resist, absorbed in the moment, her heat, her scent.

Absently, Gold reached down to cup himself, stroking softly to ease the edge of his arousal at the memory of her...

He was making far too much of a hug, he knew, and it was only further proof that the distance he'd put between himself and everyone else was doing him harm. Perhaps if he allowed more than just the occasional handshake, he wouldn't be obsessing for so long over a few seconds of embracing contact. But he had no interest in embracing anyone but Belle.

Gold cursed himself, wishing for a leap of courage where the woman was concerned.

______________________________

The man had fallen asleep atop the covers of his bed, visions of Belle never far from his mind. Noting the time when he awoke, he hurried to ready himself for the day. He would make Belle breakfast, or just tea or coffee if she wasn't hungry, then he would drive her to the library.

Gold was quick in his shower and shave, careful to select his finest suit and pairing it with a red shirt she'd once said she liked on him. He stepped into the kitchen, wondering if he should go upstairs to rouse her. His grip on the cane tightened at the thought of going to Belle, of finding her in the bed upstairs, wearing his pajamas or better yet, nothing at all.

What would she do, if he came into the room to wake her?

Would she shy away or pull him into a kiss?

Demand that he pleasure her or give him a sound slap for even thinking such a thing?

Gold shook himself out of those thoughts, feeling a flash of shame.

No, no, better to let her wake and come downstairs in her own time.

Gold set out the kettle and two cups when he noticed the paper left on the counter in familiar handwriting.

**Mr. Gold,**

**I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay the night. I'm sorry to have left without saying goodbye but I needed to run home to change clothes before going in to work - the library opens earlier on Saturdays, if you remember. I would like to thank you for your hospitality later today, and will visit you at the shop around 1 if you're in.**

**PS - I took your pajamas with me and you're not getting them back!**

**Belle**

Gold actually laughed at that sassy post script.

_Who is this girl?_

______________________________

Belle didn't mind walking. Storybrooke wasn't a one-horse town by any means, but the walk from Mr. Gold's house to the house of her father wasn't more than a few miles. She liked the fresh air, but she would have preferred fresh clothes rather than her wrinkled work clothes from the day before. Luckily she'd worn her flats rather than a pair of heels. Checking her watch, Belle hurried the last few blocks and made her way in through the back door.

The stench of alcohol, marijuana and stale cigarettes greeted her, deepening her irritation, but Belle didn't have time to start on the mess. The house looked like a white-trash bomb went off in it; beer cans and bottles rested on every flat surface, there were overflowing ashtrays strewn about the living room and the kitchen counters. On the pull-out sofa was one of the women her father had briefly dated over the years, Connie Stewart. Sleeping in the recliner was one of her father's poker buddies, though she couldn't recall his name.

Moe French had had people drifting in and out of his house for years, Belle had stopped trying to be polite and learn their names. They were all trash, so what did it matter?

Belle hustled to her old bedroom, scowling to find yet another man sprawled across the bed, snoring loudly. She'd wager that whoever it was would have one hell of a hangover when he woke up. But again, there was no time. Belle grabbed for her duffel bag, shoved Gold's pajamas into an interior pocket and then took it into the bathroom to make a quick change.

The clothes inside were clean, but it was her last outfit since everything else was in the wash. She worried that the poker night stench would cling to her hair and clothes, even being in the house for so brief a time. _Christ, I hate it here,_ she thought in irritation as she hurriedly brushed her teeth and swept her hair into a high ponytail. She made a mental note to spray herself down with Febreeze and her own perfume just in case before starting her shift at the library.

She emerged from the bathroom in a pair of dark skinny jeans, a pink tunic blouse she'd cinched with a leather belt and her same flats from the day before.

Checking her watch, Belle took up her purse again and rushed out the door.

______________________________

Just as her shift had started, Belle had seen Mr. Gold open his shop. They'd waved to each other from across the street, but Belle hadn't been able to get away to greet him before two that afternoon.

It had been late for lunch, and later than the time she'd mentioned in her note, but she'd promised to repay his generosity from the night before.

At 2:15pm, Belle strode out of Granny's with a sandwich to share with Mr. Gold, a holdover gift to him until she could get back to her father's neglected kitchen and bring the man a home-cooked meal.

Crossing the street, she felt an uncomfortable tightening in her belly, the worry that he saw her departure that morning as rude. If the library hadn't opened so early on Saturdays then of course Belle would have waited for Mr. Gold to come out of his room. She was in no position to risk her job by coming in late and she knew Mr. Gold wouldn't have appreciated her entering his bedroom without permission. They were close, but that would have crossed a line.

Belle neared the man's pawn shop but saw that it was closed - the sign on the door advising any customers to return at a later time.

She was disappointed to find the shop closed, but reminded herself that Mr. Gold was likely about town, making his rounds to collect from his clients. He had no need to visit his tenants in person, Belle knew, but she suspected that the man had grown bored with tinkering about in the shop mostly by himself all day for hours on end. Getting out into the air and seeing people, even if only to harass them for money owed, might be the highlight of his days.

Belle shrugged off his absence and returned to work for several more hours, losing herself in the stacks until Ruby slid in just as she was closing up.

Ruby waggled her eyebrows at her, "We're still on for the Rabbit Hole, right?"

Belle smiled, already excited. "You know it. God, I need a night out like you wouldn't believe!"

"In that case, be my doll tonight! Let me do your makeup."

"Only if you promise to do my eyes like yours, I love that smokey look you do but I can never get it right on myself." Belle said as she locked the double doors to the library, testing the lock and following her friend down the sidewalk.

Ruby grinned at the compliment. "It takes a while to get the hang of it, but of course I'll do yours. You know, sometimes it's easier to do on someone else." She glanced down the street to Belle's apartment building. "How much longer until your place is finished?"

Belle groaned. "No definite date, but it'll be at least another month. Maybe two. All my clothes are still at dad's, and that's the last place I want to go".

Ruby understood her friend's frustration; Belle worked at the library, volunteered at Game of Thorns just to keep the shop from shutting down, and when her money ran low she scrambled all over town for extra work. She had so little to show for her efforts - barely more than a tiny apartment to call her own, but now she didn't even have that!

"Well, tonight you won't have to." Ruby declared. If she could spare her friend having to spend any more time with her obnoxious father, then of course she would. "You can borrow a dress and a pair of heels, but I draw the line at bras and thongs!"

"Good thing I brought my own!" Belle laughed, nudging her as they crossed over to the room at Granny's that had belonged to Ruby for the past serval years.

Against her grandmother's wishes, Ruby had taken special efforts to mark her territory. On moving in, she'd painted her walls a soft pink and added matte black wainscoting with matching black curtains to the twin windows that looked out over the little courtyard of the inn. There were faded pictures of her parents, God rest them, and a few random black and white prints of the Eiffel Tower, Audrey Hepburn and a forest landscape.

Ruby opened her crammed closet and took out a few options for Belle to wear for the night. One was a tight, strapless red tube dress with a slit up the side, the next a shimmery green top cut so low that Belle couldn't help but fear her breasts would fall out for the whole club to see. The last was a short, sequined dress of midnight blue. It was scandalous, to be sure, short, tight and low, but Belle liked it the best of the bunch.

"I knew you'd like that one!" Ruby smiled. "It's all yours."

"I love it!"

"Great, put it on and then sit over there so I make a dishonest woman out of you."

Together, the two friends changed their clothes, arranged their hair and applied makeup, lining their eyes, painting their lips - shedding their daily faces to become women of the night.

Once Ruby had finished, Belle looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but to exclaim, "Whoa! Oh my God, I look great!"

Belle leaned in closer to the mirror, taking it all in. The short, sequined dress clung to the tight dip of her waist, while its low neckline showed off the cleavage presented by her own favorite lace bra. Ruby's black tights were artfully ripped, giving the wild illusion of tiger stripes running across her legs, which seemed miles long thanks to the sky-high stilettos. It was a lucky thing that she and Ruby wore the same size in shoes.

Her hair was pinned up, her makeup deep and sultry, a shimmery charcoal lining her eyes, lashes heavy with mascara, her lips a bright scarlet.

Belle looked wild and sexy, and she was starting to _feel_ it. She grinned and winked at her reflection, flirting with herself.

All at once, Belle felt charged, ready to tear her way out of the inn, she wanted to fly away from the stacks and the stress of her apartment being ripped apart so that it could be built up again, she wanted away from her father's ruin of a life and away from Mr. Gold and everything he'd stirred inside her.

Belle just wanted _away_ , she wanted to play pool and darts, to flirt with men, for them to buy her drinks and dance with her. She just wanted some fun, it was damn well overdue!

"I know, right? I don't just gild the lily, I drown it in glitter!" Ruby laughed as she replaced her makeup brushes in their case. She was meticulous in the care and organization of her beauty tools.

"God, you sure do." Belle agreed, looking closer at her painted lips. She turned to her friend, putting her hands on the taller woman's shoulders, eyes bright with excitement. "I'm ready to tear this town apart, Ruby."

Ruby smiled back to her, but then went still, her head cocked to the side, listening. "Do you hear that? It's Marcus, he's close."

Belle shook her head. "I don't hear anything, I-" She cut herself off, hearing the approaching rumble of his Mustang. "Never mind, I hear him now."

Ruby looked herself over one last time in the mirror. The she-wolf in red was ready to be let out of her cage.

"All right, grab your purse, lets get going."

Together, Ruby and Belle descended to the street to find Marcus behind the wheel with Shane moving out of the front seat to greet them. He kissed Belle's cheek and then Ruby's. "Ladies, you both look great."

"Thank you! You both look very handsome." Ruby said, tugging on Shane's sleeve. "You need to dance with me first, Garrison."

Shane took her hand and twirled Ruby right there on the sidewalk. "In that dress you can have anything you want."

From the driver's seat, Marcus watched them and turned to Belle. "If they dance first, that means it's you and me, B."

"Only if you can handle me, Marcus!"

Marcus scoffed at her challenge, boasting, "Hey, I can handle you, Ruby, Ashley and Jasmine all while blindfolded!"

Settling in the backseat with Shane, Ruby laughed at him. "We'll test your word on that when we get there."

"All right, hold on to your heels, ladies."

Together, the group sped off, Belle blissfully unaware of the irreparable change that loomed only hours before her.


	15. The Sins of Her Father

The Rabbit Hole was the only one of Storybrooke's bars that had the insight to cater to a crowd other than the burly men who worked on the docks or down in the mines just outside of town.

Rather than a jukebox of classic rock and cliché country, The Rabbit Hole had attempted to mimic the nightclubs in New York and L.A., with current pop blasting through speakers and colorful strobe lights flashing over the dance floor that featured in the center of the club.

Of course, that had been when the club first opened, nearing twenty years in the past, before it had fallen on the neglected side. Weekend crowds of hard partying had done its damage, and a manager who would rather skim the club's profits than reinvest into the business had done the place no favors.

It was something of a seedy night spot, stinking of over a decades' worth of cheap cigarettes, with a dance floor damn near scratched bare and a sound system that could produce nothing but static during one of Maine's frequent harsh storms.

It wasn't the best place for young women to be alone, but with Marcus and Shane as their official escorts for the evening, and more of their male friends waiting inside, Belle and Ruby were perfectly safe to enjoy their night.

The club's sketchy aspects aside, the under-40 crowd kept coming in on the weekends, willing to drop bills on dollar shots and dance all night. When Marcus lead the way into the club, another group of their friends was already waiting for them inside, just as charged as they were, just as ready to dance the club into the ground.

Marcus didn't bother with greeting everyone, he left Shane to that and headed straight to the bar to make an order for their group. He returned a few minutes later bearing shots and a pitcher of beer to find that their women had run off to the dance floor, leaving the men happy to set up on the pool tables and commandeer the dart boards for themselves.

"Here," he called to Shane, and he handed him a glass of beer.

"Thanks. The girls are already on the floor." Shane told him, voice raised above the pounding of the music.

"It's all good, that's more for us." Eric called out as he waved them over to a pool table.

Marcus and Shane approached as he racked the balls. "God, just look at them - how did we ever get so lucky?" Eric asked, nudging Marcus.

They all looked over to the main floor to see Ruby, Belle, Jasmine, Ashley and Ariel dancing, all of them poured into tight, colorful dresses, all of them looking wild and undone and so happy to be free for a night.

Watching Ruby, Shane couldn't help but stare. She was the alpha female of their group, and no one could deny that. She was bolder, brighter than the others, fearless and direct. Just then she looked up and caught his eyes, and she motioned for him to come join her on the dance floor.

Shane took a shot from the tray Marcus had brought, and called to them, "Hey, I owe Ruby a dance. Be back in ten."

Chalking a cue, Phillip laughed. "Ruby will eat you alive, man!"

"Only if he plays his cards right." Marcus groused as he took a cue for himself and readied to take a shot for the corner pocket after breaking.

______________________________

Shane approached the dance floor, laughing inside at the memories of his younger self in high school, so awkward, so terrified of anything female. Back then, as a freshman, he hadn't known anything about himself, let alone about girls, so to even dream of what he was doing now, daring to approach an entire flock of women, had been a flash of insanity.

 _What a difference a day makes_ , he thought with a rueful smile.

There they were, Ruby in her signature color and towering heels; Belle to her left in a short dress of blue sequins; Ariel had wrapped herself in green satin that set her striking hair on fire; Ashley, a bubbly, petite blonde was dancing with Jasmine, her exotic looks set off by her gold bandage dress. They were all so different in looks and stature, all of them gorgeous, all of them drawing looks of envy and lust from the other men in the club, and only Shane was brave enough to dare approach them.

It was the very definition of irony, but what did he care? His ladies were on fire for him. He had only dated Belle and Ruby for a few months each during their senior year of high school, and had things been different, he might have worked his way through the entire group...but Fate had intervened. None of the beauties present were his type any longer, but there was nothing to prevent him from flirting.

Well aware of the jealous eyes in the crowd trained on him, Shane stepped up to Ruby and took her about the waist, his hands kneading her flesh as he pulled her close into a grinding, writhing, sexual frenzy of a dance that soon had them both blushing darker than the scarlet of her dress.

All around them, the other women went on dancing, all of them gorgeous and colorful and fun, but in the magic of this song, Ruby and Shane belonged to each other.

_______________________________

Eric tapped Marcus on the shoulder, then directed his attention across the club where Shane and Ruby were grinding together on the dance floor. "Are you gonna let him get away with that?"

Marcus set his cue aside, and gestured for Eric to follow him over there. "Hell, no!"

He was damned if he was going to let Shane have their women all to himself. A moment later, Marcus had sidled up to Belle and was dancing against her back, flashing mischievous looks to Shane between songs as Eric and Ariel began a dance of their own.

Pairing off, Jasmine and Ashley found other men to dance with. It seemed that Shane had set off a flood of men with the sudden courage to approach the floor.

The air was changing, growing hot with lust as the music pounded away, throbbing in their blood, enthralling them. The mens' hands were free to touch, the womens' bodies were inviting. Liquor was fueling their fun, the connection between the group growing stronger, the energy between them explosive.

Belle turned and put her arms around Marcus, then threw her head back to laugh at the lewd joke he'd shouted to her. He gave a nip to her exposed throat and then spun her as the music began to speed up, the base pounding deeper through their blood.

_Yes!_

_This_ had been what Belle craved, what she'd needed for weeks. A night out instead of spent in her bare apartment, stressing over bills. Pounding music, her friends there around her, a flashy outfit to embolden her, a handsome man to flirt and dance with; never mind that Marcus was the wrong man in so many ways - he was a man treating her like the woman she was, not a polite acquaintance never to be touched.

Nothing seemed to matter, her troubles were oblivion. Her stresses had flown away. The hands that held her were strong, secure, and not Mr. Gold's, but that was all right. The Rabbit Hole wasn't for a man like him, and maybe he wasn't for her, but that didn't matter tonight.

Tonight was fun and music and drinking and games and _God, how she'd needed this!_

The song set ended and as one the group moved back to the pool tables, racking balls and throwing darts, and the drinks kept coming. Phillip passed Belle a tequila shot, and he laughed at the face she pulled as it burned down her throat.

"You lightweight!"

She blinked away the tears in her eyes from the strong liquor. "Ugh, that was painful...give me another one."

Phillip laughed, but refused her the last shot on the tray, taking it himself. "No way, this one's mine. Looks like Marcus has something for you, though."

Marcus approached them and presented her with a mango margarita. "This reminded me of when I saw you all dressed up outside your place. Flower in your hair, lookin' all tropical. Bottoms up, sexy."

Belle laughed and sipped at it, thanking him. Her mind was already buzzing happily from the drink and the thrill of the night out. She remembered her dress, the makeup she'd worn that day, the flower, hell, even the manicure she'd indulged in for the occasion. "I did look great that night, didnt I?"

"Hell yeah." Marcus agreed as he took a long pull on his only beer for the night. After that bottle it would just be water or soda for him. "You always look cute, but that night? God, you looked good enough to turn me-"

"Then why didn't he kiss me?" Belle cut in. "I mean, _really_ kiss me?"

He narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the night he'd pulled up to find her on the sidewalk with Mr. Gold - but of course she couldn't be talking about him, the thought never even entered his mind.

"Oh, you mean your blind date? You said you hated that guy." Marcus said, recalling the list of grievances she'd had against her Internet match.

Belle blinked, knowing she'd already said too much. "I...yeah, you're right. That was an awful blind date. Never mind. Let me get you another drink."

"No, that's all right." He waved off her offer. "I'll have this one beer, but no more after that, someone has to take you wild things home. And there's no way I'm risking the car."

"Oh, sorry."

"I don't mind, I can drink another time. So, what's the matter, Belle? You lonely?"

_Lonely girl._

The drinks had loosened her tongue, but Belle still had her wits about her. She wanted to talk and Marcus wanted to listen; they could do both without Mr. Gold's name coming into it. "Yes, I'm lonely. That stupid nickname my mother gave me...but it's true. There's a man, Marcus."

His dark eyes widened in interest. "Anybody I know?" He asked, flexing an arm and flashing a smile.

Belle huffed a laugh. "It's not always about you, but in a perfect world I'd have ended up with either you or Shane."

"Um, perfect for who? I think we're pretty happy with who we're with now." He reminded her. "But go on, who's this guy? Another online match?"

"No, no. He's just...he's just a man I've come to know from the library. I won't say his name."

"Do I look like the town gossip to you?"

"No, but I can't risk it getting out."

Marcus nodded, "Sure, sure. I get it. So, what, is it all you or does he seem interested? You guys gone out or even talked about it yet?"

"I think he cares. He hasn't said anything, but the way he talks to me, the way he looks at me, it's all there. We...we went to lunch once, but that was weeks ago and we haven't gone out again since. He mentioned that he'd like me to come over to his house, but he hasn't invited me yet." Belle sighed.

"Let me guess, the right moment hasn't hit? Or, what, you're both just a little too shy to come right out and say it?" Marcus guessed.

Belle nodded. "Yes."

Marcus shrugged, reaching for a Coke instead of another beer. "I've been there, babe. It's torture, I know, seeing him and wanting to say something, to say _anything_ , but there's this _thing_ inside of you that holds you back...I've been there, you know I've been there."

Belle nodded. Marcus's road to love had been much rougher than her own.

"I remember." There had been nights where Marcus, distraught, had spent the night at her place, needing someone to listen to his troubles just as she was confiding to him now. "But this is different-"

"No, it's not different. It's two people who are interested, who care about each other, but there are a hundred things keeping you apart, the main reason being that you're both too afraid to risk what you have by saying the wrong thing. Please, tell me how your situation is any different than mine was."

Belle watched him, damned if her friend hadn't hit the nail right on the head. "When you put it that way, you're right. There is no difference."

"You remember the advice you gave me? I remember I was crashing at your spot, just wrecked, and you told me that if I didn't take the chance, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. So I'll tell you the same thing now. Take the chance, Belle, or you'll regret it." Marcus threw up his hands. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Belle took a long pull on her drink, feeling the sweet burn all the way down into her belly. "It could ruin the friendship we've built so far, things become so uncomfortable between us that we avoid each other and I never see him again, then regret _that_ for the rest of my life and end up as the crazy cat lady of Storybrooke."

Marcus laughed. "Always the optimist, huh?"

Belle tapped her margarita to his Coke. "Cheers to silver linings, Marcus."

"Ah, come on, Belle, it's not so bad. You always have me and Shane." He said with a sly grin, reaching to trace the low neckline of her dress with his fingertip, just grazing the rounded flesh of her breasts.

Gooseflesh rose across her skin, but for once Belle didn't slap at him. For a moment, she simply enjoyed the fleeting touch. It had been so long since she'd felt the touch of a man, and it didn't matter how wrong it was for Marcus to touch her or worse, for her to enjoy it when Shane was just a pool table away and could see everything.

"Oh, you're the devil, Marcus." She leaned in for a hug and laughed against his throat.

"Why, yes I am."

He was happy to be a sounding board for his friend's troubles. God knew she'd helped him through plenty of harsh times over the years. That's what friends did for each other, but friends also served each other distractions to take their mind off the troubles that plagued them.

Marcus set his drink on the table and put his hands on her waist, feeling the heat of her flesh beneath the blue sequins. "Dance with me again?"

Belle smiled, her eyes bright. "You know it."

_______________________________

The night had been everything that Belle had craved for weeks.

Fried, salty bar food. Her favorite drinks. Loud, pounding music. Dart games. Pool. Sexy dancing. Laughing. Shameless flirting. Dozens of cell pictures destined to be posted online.

It would be a painful morning and they all knew it, but how could any of them have resisted the siren song of a night out with friends?

Oh, how Belle had craved it, the freedom from her real life, a joyful reprieve where she could just be young and wild for a night.

But her night, like all things, was coming to its natural end.

She, Ruby, Shane and Marcus were the only ones left of the group, the rest of whom had peeled off to get on home. Marcus dropped off Ruby first, watching as she strode from the car and on into the Inn, all confidence on her towering heels.

Shane, having been free to drink, and was something of a lightweight himself, had fallen asleep in the front seat of the Mustang. Belle climbed out of the car when Marcus pulled in front of her father's house and thanked him for the ride.

"Tonight was great, thank you so much, Marcus."

"Hey, tonight was your night, I was just along for the ride." He laughed to her.

"Take care of Shane," she reminded him. Marcus glanced over to see the other man snoring lightly in his seat.

"Oh, I'll take care of him, all right. I'm thinking death metal at top volume around seven tomorrow morning."

"You're evil! I'll see you later." She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"All right, babe, take it easy."

Belle waved as Marcus drove off, thankful for his offer of a ride. It was loud as all hell, but she loved his Mustang almost as much as he did. Almost. Marcus would marry that car if he could.

The red of his taillights faded down the block and turned off at the corner as he swept out of her neighborhood. She loved those men. Without them, their night out wouldn't have been the same.

Belle turned to walk up the path to her father's front door. She got closer but slowed her steps as she heard muffled voices. She glanced about, wondering if she was overhearing the neighbors, but no, the voices were coming from inside the house.

Whoever it was, it was another man. Belle stepped closer, dread rising in her chest as the voices became clearer to her ears. They weren't screaming, but anger was there in the harsh, snapping tones, even muffled through the walls. She recognized her father's voice, but the other...

_No._

That voice had only ever been soft and teasing toward her. An Old World accent gentled with years spent in the States.

Belle swallowed, dread constricting inside of her.

It was Mr. Gold, but, _not._

She stepped closer to the front door. It was already open, all she had to do was give it a gentle push, and it swung near silent on the hinges. As the door opened, his voice reached her, cracking through the air.

It couldn't be. Not him, it couldn't be his voice, so twisted and savage and fierce.

"I am not interested in apologies. Don't you understand?! She's gone, she's not coming back...it was his favorite and you ruined it!"

Feet like lead and pulse pounding, Belle turned the corner and found the men in the living room. Her stomach dropped at the sight of them. Her prayer - _Please, God, don't let it be him, please, anyone but him!_ \- had gone unanswered, ignored and mocked, because there he was.

It was Mr. Gold, his back turned to her as he stood over her father amid the ruin of the room. Moe was on the floor, his back against the overturned coffee table. There was a bruise on his cheek and he was cradling his left arm, snarling up at Gold.

"Gold, you son of a bitch-"

"What is going on here?"

Gold turned to face the new voice, the new threat, and Belle was startled when she saw him for the first time. His face was twisted into a fiery scowl, but more than that, he'd suffered from her father's fists as well. There was a cut on his lip, a bruise low on his jaw. The sleeve of his suit jacket was ripped at the seam, the first few buttons of his deep green shirt were torn away where her father had grabbed at him, revealing a strip of the undershirt just beneath it.

The man stared back at her, his eyes blank on her face, taking her for a stranger before recognition dawned on him, and his face immediately softened and shame rolled over him.

_Oh, Belle..._

At first he'd jumped to the assumption of her being one of Moe's barflies, but with realization, he recalled she had planned a night out with Miss Lucas.

Women tended to dress alike when they went out dancing, and he knew that when Miss Lucas lead the charge to the Rabbit Hole, her girlfriends fell in line and drew on their Saturday wicked, a slap in the face of what they wore for their Sunday best.

This all raced through his mind in a blink, but her dress wasn't important. What they were to each other...no. He couldn't let her distract him from what he'd come here to do.

Getting her away from him, from all of this, _that_ was what he needed to do now.

As Belle watched, Mr. Gold straightened his posture and took a few steps away from her father, who was now openly groaning in pain. The men had fought, and Mr. Gold had clearly won the upper hand when she'd stepped through the door. He fixed a calm expression over his face and gentled his voice to address her. "This is a personal conflict, Miss French. Please, excuse us."

It was a futile request, he knew. He couldn't expect a daughter to turn away and let her father go on being beaten, even if her father was Moe French - the con man, the criminal, the wretch who had just signed his own death warrant after crossing Gold in such a way.

If anything, the man's politeness was more alarming than his violence. Belle blinked at him, dumb-founded. "What?"

Moe shifted on the floor, "Belle, get out of here, run!"

"Oh, please, she has nothing to fear from me, this is between you and I." Gold snapped angrily, his voice lancing across to the other man. It was a weapon in itself.

Belle paid her father's warning no mind - she'd walked in on a scene of insanity, but unlike the rest of the town, she had no fear of Mr. Gold. She looked down at her father, still slumped on the floor. "Dad, why is he here? What have you done?"

Mr. Gold was not surprised that Belle knew Moe had brought this wrath down upon himself. The woman knew her father.

He turned to Moe, "Would you like me to tell her?"

"Don't you talk to my daughter, you bastard!"

Mr. Gold shrugged. "It doesn't matter, she'll learn the truth either way." He looked over at Belle. "Your father took something from me, Miss French, and I've come to collect a pound of flesh though I think he can spare a bit more than that."

Gold started toward Moe, appearing intent to attack. She rushed to step in between him and her father. "No, Mr. Gold, please don't! I'll pay, I'll pay for whatever-"

"This isn't about money." Gold's eyes were furious even as his voice was ice cold. Standing so close to him, she could _feel_ it, the rage seething just beneath the surface of the man. "Nothing can replace what he's taken from me."

Belle's mind raced, a hundred questions zipping through her mind: what had her father taken from him? What could he want to make up for what her father had stolen? The most pressing question, however, was how could this vicious man before her be the same Mr. Gold who had been such a warm pleasure to her for the past year?

Her father was struggling to move up from his place on the floor, spitting vulgarities at Mr. Gold, and while he was standing still and his voice was level, Mr. Gold was making just as many spiteful promises to the other man.

Belle had to do something to stop this vicious insanity, but what?

What could she do?

_What could she do?!_

Belle took a deep breath, and put her hand on Mr. Gold's shoulder to draw his attention once more. "If this isn't about money, then...then take me."

Mr. Gold drew back, his scowl lifting for a moment of surprise. "What?"

Her father had thankfully ceased his cursing to stare at her, shock written all over his bruised face.

Belle moved again, putting herself directly between Mr. Gold and her father. When she spoke, her voice was barely steady, but she had to keep the man's focus in case he tried to attack again. She couldn't let that happen. She had to be brave now.

"You're right, I don't have much money. Whatever I have, I know it won't be enough. I am all I have to give. You don't have to do this." She stepped closer to him, until her hands came to rest over his on the raised cane. She could feel the tension leave his fingers and thankfully, he lowered the weapon, his attention focused solely on her.

"What are you saying?"

Belle recognized what he was doing, trying to get her to spell out what it was she wanted from him - this was the first step in dealing with Mr. Gold. He had taught her well.

"Take what you were going to put against my father and put it to me. Please, Mr. Gold." She begged. "I can work off the value of what he stole in your shop, or in one of your buildings or restaurants. Whatever you want, just please don't hurt him anymore."

His dark eyes had narrowed on her as she spoke, and Belle could see him thinking, thinking, and then, some choice had been made.

Gold stepped forward, crooking his finger and lightly tipping her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. He'd never think to touch her like this, speak to her this way, had he been in his right mind - but nothing was right this night. It had all gone to hell the moment her father forced his way across Gold's threshold.

"What a hero you are under all that makeup." He took a deep breath, and Belle saw that regret flashed in his face before he told her, "Come with me."

The man stepped away, disgusted with the entire scene, but himself most of all.

Belle glanced to her father, still half-slumped on the floor, before looking back to him. "Where?"

"To my house," Gold huffed. "It's where I conduct my less conventional business arrangements, and it's where you can see the damage you'll have to pay for."

Belle closed her eyes for a moment, thankful that he was allowing this, for her to take her father's place and in doing so, sparing the man a severe beating at the very least. When she'd come in the door...Gold had had a fire in his eyes, he'd looked ready to kill.

This was not Mr. Gold as she'd known him.

This was Mr. Gold, the man she'd been warned against since they'd first met.

Clearly, she'd never known him at all.

"Thank you. Will you please wait, just for one minute? I need my bag."

He nodded, dismissing her.

Gold watched Belle move out of the room, down the hallway and into a side door before turning back to her father, he who had remained silent during their entire exchange.

"And you? You're just going to let me take your daughter away without a word, aren't you?" His face twisted into a renewed sneer of disgust. "And they say I'm the monster - if anyone else could see you now they'd chase you right out of town."

Moe shifted from his spot on the floor, but Gold's warning glare kept him sitting rather than trying to stand. "What are you going to do with her?"

Gold only smiled.

______________________________

Belle stepped into her old room and took a moment to stand beside her bed, willing her hands to stop shaking. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down.

_Who is that man?_

_He isn't Mr. Gold. He can't be - Mr. Gold is gentle and sweet and funny, he's not...he's...he's exactly what he warned me he was. A monster._

Belle fought against the tears welling in her eyes and the tightening of her throat. She couldn't break down now, there would be time to cry later, after she had Mr. Gold alone and could finally understand the man she was dealing with.

If understanding between them could ever be possible after tonight.

The woman shook her head and reached into the closet for the duffel she'd brought from her apartment. She started to look for anything else she might need, pausing when she heard the men speaking again, her father asking Gold what he had in store for her, and Mr. Gold's biting answer.

"Damn it, answer me, what are you going to do, Gold?"

"I havent decided. Maybe I'll just have her clean the shop or maybe I'll chain her to the wall in my basement the first chance I get." He snarked, and despite the insanity of the situation, Belle almost laughed through her tears.

In the living room, Gold was still laying into her father, his voice dropping to a lower pitch, perfectly conveying his veiled fury, and Belle wasn't sure who she was more afraid for - her father or herself.

"You just sold her to me to save yourself a beating...but since you're so curious, I'll have you know that I plan to get my money's worth. Every penny. Miss French!"

Belle flinched, nearly dropping her bag as he called for her.

She reentered the living room, the small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "I'm ready."

He nodded. "Good."

The man said nothing else, he simply turned and strode out of the house, fully expecting her to follow.

Moe reached for her as she walked past him toward the front door. "Belle, Belle, don't go with him-"

Belle ignored her father, following Mr. Gold outside and then across the street to his car.

The drive to Mr. Gold's house was tense and silent. Belle glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but Gold was focused solely on the road ahead.

She hugged her bag closer to her chest.

______________________________

Belle had not seen the front rooms of Mr. Gold's house the night before. They had come in through the back and she'd left through the same way that morning; all she'd seen had been the guest room she'd slept in, the bare hallway and his kitchen. There had been no time for her to linger and it hadn't occurred to her to have a look around the rest of the house while he'd still been asleep. She had been in a rush to get on back to her father's to change, and from there, getting in to work on time.

And besides, Mr. Gold had offered her a tour that she was sure he would give on her next visit. As she'd walked across Storybrooke that morning, Belle had let her mind wander, picturing a day spent with him in the notorious mansion.

Rather than candlelight and roses, Belle had imagined they'd share a meal in the evening, something they would prepare together. They would be completely at ease as they took turns chopping vegetables and stirred sauces, teasing, arguing, no fear of being found out and no need to hide.

It would just be them, together. A relaxed meal, the product of their joint efforts. A sweet dessert to follow. Then, Mr. Gold would lead her through the house on his promised tour. And he would kiss her, finally, really kiss her.

But _this?_

Neither of them could have expected this disaster after the pleasantness of the night before.

Gold lead her up to the front door, which Belle noted had a broken frame in its stained glass center. That must've been how her father got in, breaking the beautiful glass rather than forcing the lock.

He shoved the door open, letting it bang back hard on the wall, and then he stood in the foyer, debating which destroyed room should house their little chat.

Well.

The front room directly to his left still had a lighting fixture. Moe had ripped the fixture that lit the opposite room right out of the ceiling. The wires hanging down were still sparking.

Belle came in just behind him and stood in the front doorway, taking in the ruin of the house, already ashamed, already horrified for him. "My father did all this?"

Gold shook his head, "This is nothing, though I would appreciate a clean-up."

He crossed the room, crunching over broken glass as he walked. His cane got caught on a twisted piece of broken wood that had clearly been part of a picture frame, but he was able to right his balance, and flung the wood against the far wall with a sharp _crack_ as it snapped apart. Belle winced at the noise and remained where she stood, just inside the doorway with the duffel clutched to her chest.

Why Gold would think the ruin of his beautiful home as "nothing", Belle had no idea. Her shame was tenfold. She had considered Mr. Gold her close friend, but it seemed impossible that he could return that sentiment, or anything else she felt for him, now. She was tainted by her connection to Moe French, and would be forever going forward.

But Mr. Gold had brought her here to repair the damage, and had just asked her, in his polite way, to get started on the mess. A quick sweep of her eyes told her she would need a broom and dustpan, a mop, Windex and rags, several large trash bags...but first she had to get out of Ruby's heels and into her sneakers.

Belle motioned to her duffel bag. "Yes, of course, just let me change and I'll get started. I promise, it'll be spotless when I'm finished." She was already moving toward the bathroom she'd spotted down the hall.

"No."

Belle stopped. "No?"

"No. Have a drink with me." Gold crouched down and pulled the lone survivor from the shards where his liquor cabinet, several bottles and a set of Waterford glasses had once stood.

It was brandy. He would have preferred anything stronger, but brandy was all he had left.

Seeming to notice the tear in his navy suit jacket for the first time, Gold removed it and let it fall on the floor to join the rest of the ruin. The greatest state of undress that Belle had ever see him in had been the previous winter, when he'd removed his tie for her. He wore thin bands of gold on his upper arms. Decorative little secrets hiding just under the sleeves of his jacket.

Gold turned around to face her, and gestured to the sofa, seeing as the other furniture in the room, the wingback chairs and ottoman were sliced, the stuffing ripped out and thrown all about the room. Black spray paint spelled out vulgarities all over the walls and above the mantel, and there were impact dents in the walls and wood floor that she would wager came from her father hurling whatever he could get his hands on.

All of Mr. Gold's beautiful things, ruined.

The thought made her sick.

"All right."

The sofa was in a similar state as the other furniture, with its cushions slashed and a broad stripe of black paint running along the back. Still, Belle managed to sit as he'd asked, and took the glass he offered - ever the gentleman, Gold had given her the glass with the least damage, lest she slice her lip on the rim.

The tension that had been crackling around him was loosening its hold, Belle could feel it. Still, nothing could reverse the situation they found themselves in on this awful night.

"I'm sorry that I ruined your girls' night." Gold told her quietly after he'd sat beside her with his own drink in hand, tilting his head to look at her from the corner of his eye. "I know you were looking forward to it."

"You didn't ruin anything." She soothed. "We had already wrapped up for the night anyway."

"Did you have fun?"

Belle paused, thinking of the dart games, the dancing, the music still ringing in her ears. It all seemed so far away, now.

"Yes."

"Good. That's good. Having fun, it's what you should be doing, not... _this."_

The deep disgust in Gold's voice was startling. Clearly, he didn't want her here, not with his home in such a state, not after having revealed such a dark side of himself to her.

Belle wasn't sure what to expect from the man. Things were beyond changed now, Belle knew. She'd seen what he was capable of, and he now saw her in connection with her father's misdeed.

Whatever friendship they had formed, Belle bid it a sad, silent farewell.

Together they sat under the spray-painted canopy of **FAGGOT** across the far wall with the stinging odor of paint and alcohol lingering in the room.

Glancing over, Belle watched as Gold had leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes staring down angrily at the brandy in his hands.

The woman said nothing, she simply sat beside him and wondered why her father hadn't just shattered the last liquor bottle or stolen it for himself. Gold gulped down his whole glass, then dropped it carelessly, letting it shatter into the silence and rubbed a hand over his face.

Feeling oddly removed, Belle handed her untouched glass to him, and, with a nod of thanks, Gold gulped it down as well before tossing the glass and letting it shatter beside its sibling on the floor. Finally he stood, moved to the cracked mantel and broke the silence.

"Miss French, I've a proposition for you. I want you to stay with me, not just for a night. This would be...favorable to my coming after your father for reparations on all he's done."

The intention behind his offer was clear - she would stay with him and her father would be spared, or she could leave, and her father would be in for another round of violence. While he might survive if Gold came after him again, he certainly would not if it was Mr. Dove who found him.

The choice was hers, but-

Belle shifted her weight on the sofa, a thick knot of dread tightening in her stomach.

He couldn't be demanding this from her...her friend, he couldn't...it wasn't meant to be this way...no, no. _No, damn it, not like this!_

Belle shot to her feet, her eyes stinging with tears of anger, regret for all that had been lost tonight. "No. I'm not going to sleep with you for-"

"No!" Gold turned to face her, his grip so tight on the handle of his cane that his knuckles had gone white. "I don't want that from you. I know what's said about me but it will never be said that I force women into whoring themselves."

The man looked her over, the revealing outfit and the heavy makeup...for one flash moment, he loathed the sight of her. Where had his charming friend disappeared to? He couldn't find her under the painted face before him. He wanted _his_ Miss French, _his_ Belle back. This was too much. He could hardly look at her.

Gold was upset, unbalanced. Rage and regret were warring inside of him, pulling at his heart. He felt the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go, and he couldn't run if he tried.

The man wanted to turn back time, to go back to the evening before. It had been so innocent, a comfort to have her there with him. He wanted that again, desperately, but how could he expect that now he'd voiced a deal designed to extort her presence?

It was all gone, now. She'd seen too much. She'd seen him for what he was and it was over.

Gold gave a broken sigh, struggling to keep his voice steady, "I'm sorry, Miss French, please, I would never demand that you...I'm not myself. No. I am too much myself tonight, and that's the problem."

Gold rubbed his face, ashamed, as miserable as he'd been in an age. There was no recovery for them after this; once a woman feared a man, there was no coming back.

He'd driven a stake right through the heart of everything they'd shared. He did this.

Belle watched as he rubbed at his face again, a restlessness cast over him. If this were any other night, she would go to the man, offer a comfort if she thought he would accept it. But things were too tense, too raw. Gold might lash out if she approached. Still, she had to know.

"Why are you doing this?"

The why of it all reawakened his anger. "Because your father crossed me. He approached me when he couldn't manage his own affairs, reneged on our deal, invaded my home and took away one of the only things I have left of-" Gold stopped himself, his voice smooth and in control once again. "After what he did, I plan to repay him in kind. Starting with you."

Mr. Gold turned his famous glare on her, but Belle was not afraid of him. She never had been, not even after seeing this side of the man. "If you wanted to take away something he cared about, you should have taken his liquor, or the drugs. I'm not defending what he did to you. And you're right, if he'd been able to manage then he never would have had to come to you. What I meant was, why not just go to the police?"

Gold shook his head, dismissing the idea. "After what I did, we'd both be arrested. Jail's not good enough. He has to suffer."

"So you'll hurt me to hurt him?"

Gold hissed in a sharp breath at that, and clenched his jaw. "Miss French, I know that it is difficult now to believe that I won't hurt you, given what you've seen of me tonight, but you have my word that you are safe here. You are safe from any...intentions you might think I have in asking that you stay with me."

Gold suppressed a groan of disgust that he would even need to reassure her of such a thing.

_God, what she must be thinking..._

Belle didn't say anything, she just looked at him as Mr. Gold continued.

"Even if I wanted to, I don't need to hurt you to get to your father. He doesnt care about you the way a father should. I am sorry to say that, but his actions tonight speak for themselves. He has no idea that we know each other, does he?" Gold asked her. Belle only shook her head, to which he nodded. "I thought as much. To him, you and I are still strangers, and he let me take you away, to my house, in the middle of the night. What kind of man does that?"

 _The better question is, what kind of man would demand I stay with him?!_ Belle snapped at him in her mind, sure her scowl was conveying her thought perfectly. She crossed her arms and adjusted her stance to appear defiant.

"What I need...I need to show I can't be crossed. I need to have you with me to keep up appearances. Do you understand?"

Belle remembered his words of wisdom when it came to deals - that specifics were paramount when it came to any agreement. "Please be more clear, Mr. Gold." She asked coldly.

He glanced back at her and gave the faintest of smiles. She had listened to his advice and was using it now.

_Clever girl._

"Fine. As I said, I won't touch you. But your father, and more importantly, the other people in this town who owe me, don't know that. As far as they know, you and I are strangers to each other. So, in taking you to clear your father's debt, in keeping you here, I'll be sending a message."

Belle felt tears slip down her cheeks, purely sad for her friend. This man felt the only way toward any power or respect was to twist his image into something dark and ugly. The rumors had all been true, then. He thrived on it, the monster he'd made of himself.

"Yes. The message is that you've taken me and that you aren't above doing the same to anyone else who crosses you. I'll serve as a warning. I understand that. But Mr. Gold, you can't want this."

"What I want is of no concern to you." He warned her.

Belle shook her head, trying to appeal to the good in him. She knew it was there, she'd seen it, she'd felt it with every hour spent in his company. It couldn't have all been lies between them. "Think this through. What if you met someone, how would you explain this to her?"

At that, Gold gave a bitter little laugh. "If I met someone. Very funny."

The man wanted to stop this, beg her forgiveness but he was too far gone now, there was no going back. Let him be the beast of Storybrooke, let her see him as a monster.

"I need to make things very clear, lest anyone else get the bright idea to walk over me after a deal turns sour on their end. I'll take what they hold dear, no matter how innocent, and corrupt it beyond recognition. And I'll enjoy doing it."

Belle felt the ground fall out from under her feet at this sinister declaration.

"That's awful." She said quietly.

Gold did not disagree with her. "That's business."

There.

After a year of tea and friendly talks, Miss French had finally been introduced to the real Mr. Gold.

"The guest room is yours if you choose to accept my deal, and as I recall you already have a set of pajamas." His little joke fell flat, but he hadn't expected a laugh from her.

Not now, not tonight.

"I want your decision in the morning."

Belle looked down at her hands, fisting them as she wondered where her soft-spoken friend had gone, and thinking how stupid she had been to ignore everyone's warnings about him.

_You stupid, lonely girl..._

Belle stepped forward and approached the man. Gold stilled, expecting her to slap him, but he held his ground and did not break his eyes from hers. If she wanted to get a hit in, he'd let her have it. It was exactly what he deserved.

"You won't have to wait that long. You knew I'd agree to anything before we even came here, didn't you?"

Gold moved forward and swept a tear off her cheek with the back of his index finger.

His sweet friend. Why was he doing this? It was a curse, it had to be, for him to ruin everything good in his life, for everything to fall apart in his hands.

In that moment, all he wanted was to beg forgiveness and confide his every secret, to explain, to make her understand...but he was too raw, too drained to say anything else.

"Good night, Miss French."


	16. The Dragon & His Maiden

Belle watched as Mr. Gold limped away, leaving her alone in the front room. She stood there, surrounded by her father's destruction as his footsteps faded down the hallway and then went silent. A moment later she heard a door close.

Only then did Belle release the breath she'd been holding, exhaling and then gasping in a hard gulp of air. She choked on a sob and looked about herself.

The floor was covered with broken glass, the stuffing that'd been ripped from the furniture, the wood of broken picture frames. The house was tinged with the mingling scents of paint and alcohol.

Belle swiped at the tears on her cheeks and cleared her throat.

Mr. Gold had dropped his torn jacket in the corner of the room, on the floor near the broken bottles and larger shards of glass. Belle tried to lift the jacket, thinking she might be able to stitch the tear in the shoulder, but dropped it once she saw that the alcohol on the floor had already soaked into the material. Just another thing that had been ruined tonight, but the man had no care for a jacket.

No, Mr. Gold didn't much care about his things, but there had been something in this grand house, one thing that he had prized above all others. In his rampage against the man, her father had ruined whatever it was Mr. Gold so coveted, and Belle had thrown herself on the sword to protect him.

She moved out of the first front room, careful not to trip in her heels for all the glass on the floor. Slicing up her hands and knees would be the perfect way to end this night. Picking up her duffel bag from where she'd left it near the front door, she stood at the threshold to the other front room, just as damaged as the first.

The house was so quiet. So dark.

Even in the dim lighting, she could see the ruin of this, Mr. Gold's formal dining room. The table was overturned against the wall, several of the chairs were broken. Belle nudged a broken chair leg aside, sighing heavily. The room's lighting fixture had been ripped from the ceiling, the exposed wires were still hanging down. Belle turned off the light switch to stop them from sparking. After all the abuse this house had suffered, a fire would be the final insult.

She thought of her father and felt fresh tears rise in her eyes.

Tears of anger, tears of hate.

Belle hoped Mr. Gold went after her father again, nevermind this arrangement he'd forced her into. She would stay with the man for a year if that's what it took to give Moe a moment of clarity, to make him see what he was doing to her with his damn selfish arrogance. She still had no idea why her father had caused so much damage against the other man, but it wasn't much to guess.

Mr. Gold owned Game of Thorns and the house and Belle was sure that her father had gone to him for several loans over the years, and still he'd needed her help, asking that she volunteer hours at the flower shop and lend him whatever cash she could spare.

Nothing was ever enough for that man.

Moe had even pawned her mother's wedding ring, and would have pawned her mother's necklace if Belle hadn't squirreled it away for herself, years ago.

Belle's ears pricked up; she could hear the shower running from Mr. Gold's room, the sound telling her that he was somewhere toward the back of the house, across from the kitchen.

She took in a shuddering breath, no longer crying, but there was a great gaping sadness in her soul. It was there, open both for Mr. Gold and herself.

Belle tightened her hold on the duffel and made her way up the front staircase, praying that her father had kept his rampage on the first level of the house. She climbed the stairs and found her way to the guest room she'd slept in the night before. Thankfully, it was as she'd left it. No painted insults marred the walls, there was no glass littering the floor.

 _Well, thank God for small miracles,_ Belle thought bitterly.

If her father had desecrated _this_ room, where Mr. Gold had allowed their first embrace, where he'd kissed her hand, then Belle would've beaten him herself.

She closed the door behind her, and sank to sit in the desk chair, resting her forehead in her hands. As usual, her father had managed to ruin another good thing in her life and as usual, here she was, taking it on herself to clean up his mess.

And Mr. Gold...he was lost to her, now.

Belle sniffed.

The violence against her father, the way he'd spoken to her, and now this deal of his...the man had claimed he wouldn't touch her, but what good was his word now? He wasn't the man she'd believed him to be, or, at least not fully. There was a darkness in him, she'd seen it tonight. It had always been there, just as he'd warned her.

_I should've listened to you. I should've listened to everyone._

Not that the past mattered much now. He'd shown his hand.

Belle stood from the desk and stripped off Ruby's dress, her heels and tights, hanging the dress on a vacant hanger in the closet, leaving the shoes and tights on the floor inside before shutting the door.

She stood there, leaned her forehead against it, the wood cool to her heated skin. The damn dress stank of cigarettes from the Rabbit Hole, nevermind that Belle hadn't smoked since high school. Her hair stank like the club too.

She was disgusting.

She was an idiot.

Belle punched the closet door, releasing the sob that rose in her throat. She punched the door again and again, crying.

How could she have ever let herself believe that she could be with Mr. Gold, this perfect worldly gentleman? She'd blinded herself to everything he'd told her about who he truly was, and in turn she'd tried too hard to be something she wasn't - always trying to be her best self when she was with him, but he'd seen her crack too many times.

She'd given away far too much.

The man knew how poor she was, how weak and alone she felt though she'd tried her damnest to hide behind smiles and jokes and friendly flirting.

But the _truth?_

The truth of them was that she was only a step above her trash father and Mr. Gold was a madman.

_Hell. Maybe we are meant for each other after all._

Belle laughed through the sobs that seized her chest, and hit the closet door again, beating it weakly with her fist.

After a few minutes Belle calmed her fit and moved to the bathroom, blinking at her reflection. All of Ruby's careful work was a mess on her face now; sweat, tears and the natural oil in her skin had caused her sexy mask to smudge and smear. She was a runny watercolor painting.

Belle checked under the sink and pulled out an old, unopened bar of Dove soap and a washcloth, turned the water on hot and scrubbed her face until the skin felt raw.

Washing off the makeup was calming in its way, but it couldn't change what had happened tonight. Standing there in her underwear, her eyes were swollen, her face was red. Looking over her body, Belle saw that she'd lost weight again. Stress. After tonight she'd probably lose all her curves.

Belle looked back to the bedroom door.

She listened for Mr. Gold, waiting for the sound of his uneven gait and the _tap_ of his cane. The rhythm of his footsteps was a most welcome sound, but now she dreaded it.

Despite her outraged assumption when he'd proposed his deal and his promise for her safety, Belle was taken with the paranoid thought that Mr. Gold would come and force himself on her. Her pulse quickened at the thought.

 _Stop. He's not_ that _kind of monster._

Yes, the night had forced the truth that she did not know this man as well as she'd once hoped, but she'd never genuinely feared for herself in that way. Even that afternoon when he'd stroked her back and his eyes had burned for her...she hadn't run because she'd been afraid, she'd run because she'd been overwhelmed by his presence.

 _No. He won't hurt me. I can trust that. I_ believe _that._

Mr. Gold wouldn't hurt her body, but Belle _had_ been hurt by him tonight. Terribly hurt.

He had torn into their connection and put a choice to her that was no choice at all: stay with him or watch her father be beaten to within an inch of his life. No. Belle had had no true choice in this.

She took in a shuddering breath. Mr. Gold wasn't the man she'd made herself believe he was, that was true, but he had been pushed this night, pushed by her father's violation of his home into becoming that _other_ Mr. Gold, the one the town so hated and feared.

 _Which one of you is the_ real _Mr. Gold?_

The man had claimed not to care about the damage done to his house, the beast within him had been set off by whatever her father had taken. Belle absently fingered the topaz in her left earlobe, his gift to her, thinking on it.

_What could dad have taken to infuriate him like that? He'd been ready to kill over it - jewels, maybe. Cash? No. He said it wasn't about money. Another piece of artwork. Private documents. Maybe dad uncovered some secret of his._

There was no way of knowing until Mr. Gold told her, but who knew when that might be? Would he see the insanity of his demand and send her home or would he hold her to her promise to stay?

Who knew which Mr. Gold Belle would be faced with in the morning?

That man had only ever been a pleasure to her, but this new side of him, so capable of violence, of ruthless manipulation and so adept at spinning dark illusions...his deal was clear. He would keep her and let everyone know that he'd named her as his price to spare her idiot father's life.

Belle was Mr. Gold's prize.

He'd claimed not to want sex from her, so she supposed she would become his house girl. Cleaning and cooking for the man, but for all appearances she would be his degraded plaything... _his_ in every sense.

The message was clear, and it would take time before the woman could trust that Gold wouldn't press to make the illusion a reality.

Belle moved to lock the door, and slipped under the blankets.

______________________________

Gold left Belle in the living room, surrounded by the destruction of her father. Shutting the door to his bedroom and then leaning back against it, he took several deep breaths, feeling numb. This was insanity, what had he been thinking, to let Belle see him like that, to offer her a deal where she had no true choice to refuse him?

The simple answer was that he hadn't been thinking - he'd been furious, violated and hurt, so hurt that he'd given in to his rage, attacking her father and then just as quickly latching on to the one bright spot he had in this world: Belle.

Beautiful, sweet Belle. She'd offered herself to him, and he'd pounced on the chance to keep her close - the dragon and his maiden.

Oh, yes. He'd pounced.

_I'm sorry, Belle. I tried to be good for you, but it was only a matter of time..._

Gold rubbed a hand over his face, feeling spent. The panic he'd felt on seeing his home ransacked, the blind rage that had erupted inside of him, the physical exertion of the fight he'd started, and now this, ruining one of his only friendships and all that it might have become...

Yes, he was a dragon, a beast of a man.

He hadn't planned on asking Belle to stay with him, but on bringing her to the house, on seeing the damage again, seeing the ruined picture of Henry and Regina, the broken jade bookend that had been a birthday gift from his mother, the slashed seascape that his wife had painted...the idea had come to him.

A way to reaffirm his power, a way to keep Belle close.

An offer.

A deal struck that would allow him mutual comfort and vengeance.

_Christ, I'm a bastard._

Gold pressed his fingertips to his face, wincing at the bruising there from his fight with her father, and then pressed harder, relishing the pain.

He grunted, and dragged himself toward the bathroom, stripping as he went, shedding each piece of clothing, leaving a trail across the floor. His suit jacket was still in the front room, but he shed his dress shirt, then the black undershirt beneath it. His shoes, socks, his trousers, his boxer briefs.

Even his cane he let fall somewhere between the bedroom door and his bathroom. He hardly noticed as he awkwardly limped the rest of the way, naked, and began a shower, the water beating down hot on his skin. He scrubbed hard, dragging his nails over his skin until he was covered in angry red stripes. He wanted to wash it away, all of the hurt, the anger, the hell he'd served to Belle only minutes ago.

Gold pounded the wall with his free fist, the other he used to hold the rail he'd had installed to prevent slips in the shower. It had been a precaution to keep himself from further injury when he'd moved into the downstairs bedroom.

_What does that matter, now?_

Gold thought he might throw himself down the stairs or better yet, off the roof for what he'd done to that woman tonight.

Leaving the shower, he found a pair of lounge pants and flopped face down onto his bed. He screamed his frustration into a pillow until his throat was raw.

He felt sick, he wanted to drown in either a bottle of pills or whiskey but that fat bastard Moe had shattered all but the brandy he'd shared with Belle. Not that she'd done more than sniff at hers, she'd not even taken a sip before handing it off to him.

Gold silenced himself, listening. He could hear no footsteps above him, and didn't expect to. Belle had probably run back to her father the moment he'd shut his bedroom door.

_Oh, it's over. She's lost to me. I did this. She's gone. Oh, Belle, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...if I could change things, I would, but I'm trapped..._

Gold didn't expect to see his friend ever again. The woman had to hate him now. His eyes stung with tears at the loss. He could already envision his future encounters with her: Belle would scowl at him, her eyes dark with anger. Her smiles would be replaced with sneers, she would hate him, ignore him, feed into the rumors of his cruelty. All their private talks and that thread of shared attraction would disappear, and Belle would just be another in town who crossed the street to avoid him.

And him? What fate awaited the cunning Mr. Gold?

He didn't need any second sight to see the future, he already knew what was in store for him.

Belle would join the ranks of those who despised him, and he would only grow older, angrier and more miserable knowing that every day until his last would be spent as the most hated man in Storybrooke. It was the fate he'd earned with his failure as a man.

_I'm going to die alone in the shop, buried under a pile of antiques._

Who would miss him?

Henry and Regina, he supposed, but they were already so far from him now. He'd pushed them away with his lack of care, and chased Belle away with his darkness.

Gold rolled onto his side, curling into the fetal position, and let himself cry for the first time in years.

_______________________________

Having woken early, just as sunlight hit the window, Belle stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, unsure of what to do with herself. Whatever sleep she'd found in the night had meant nothing; when she'd woke there had been no question of where she was, why, or whether or not the night before had happened.

It wasn't some dream. It had been real. All of it.

Belle sat up on the bed, hugging her knees to herself.

_What now?_

Should she get her day started or wait for Mr. Gold to come to her and explain himself? Belle made a choice not to wait in the bedroom.

 _My first_ real _choice since he brought me here,_ she huffed to herself.

The woman got out of bed and went into the closet for her duffel, deciding that she would get dressed and go downstairs for another look at the disaster her father had created, and then get started on the cleanup.

The sooner she got started, the sooner they could get back to normal.

_God, will that even be possible after last night?_

And what about Mr. Gold's condition that she stay with him, would he expect her to stay even after the mess was cleared and the damage repaired? And if he did, how long did he mean for her to stay? Another day or however long it took until he bored of having her share space with him?

Another thought crossed Belle's mind, and it made her blood run cold.

_Not that! He can't take that from me! Everything I've worked for..._

If she did anything to upset him, would Mr. Gold threaten her position at the library, some sick maneuver to keep her easier to control? Before, she'd never think it of him, but he wasn't who she'd thought he was - the very fact that she was here, under his roof, was proof enough that Mr. Gold wasn't above seizing control over any situation that didn't please him.

It would be nothing for Mr. Gold to force her from the library, given he'd funded the entire project himself.

The man's wealth and high position in the town was well known, but Belle had never given a thought to what he could do if he turned against her.

Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. _He could ruin me._

The library was the one thing she had, the one thing she'd ever wanted for herself, the one thing that she had accomplished that gave her a full sense of worth, and now it was in the hands of the man her father had crossed.

_If he takes the library from me, I'll have nothing, be nothing..._

No one in town had half the power to stand up to him, not even their mayor, and Regina wouldn't stand against him on her behalf. Mr. Gold had a public rivalry with Mayor Mills, but there were rumors of other things between them in private.

Belle shook her head. She didn't want to think about that or the library right now.

Whatever Mr. Gold intended for her, he would explain once she saw him downstairs.

Belle unzipped the duffel an started to root around for a changes of clothes-

"What? No, no, no, oh, damn it! Damn it, how could I have been so stupid?!" Belle cursed angrily. She dug everything out of the duffel bag and threw it against the wall.

Her temper was flaring high and hot, out of control as she punched the closet door again, an easy target for her upset.

Sunday was laundry day.

All her clothes were still at her father's house. She'd planned on taking care of everything in the morning, the perfect quiet day to follow after her wild night out.

But now...

All she had inside was her toiletry case, his pilfered pajamas, a few hair and makeup things, her sneakers and her flat shoes. Belle would either have to face Mr. Gold while wearing the pajamas or Ruby's club outfit from the night before. Neither option was very presentable, so Belle flipped a quarter and wound up back in Ruby's dress.

Belle looked herself over in the mirror after she'd put it back on and paired it with her flats rather than Ruby's killer heels. The dress was dirty, though the silver lining here was that it didn't smell of cigarettes so much now that it'd had a chance to air out in the closet.

 _It's not that bad,_ she supposed, _More risqué than what he's seen me in day-to-day but I guess it's all right with my flats._

Belle took several calming breaths, easing her anger and dread. She didn't know what Mr. Gold had in store for her, but she reasoned that he'd had enough time to himself to come down from his temper of the night before.

He had to see reason, that, yes, she would clean and repair as much of the damage as she could, but he couldn't honestly think he could keep her as his captive...could he?

Belle descended to the first floor of the grand house, seeing all the damage in daylight. It was worse than she'd thought. Her father had thundered through Mr. Gold's home, tearing into everything he could get his hands on, and she still wasn't sure why.

 _I'll be at it all day,_ she groaned.

It might be for the best if she spent the day in the house cleaning while Mr. Gold ran his errands about town. Some space would be good, and then afterwards, well...it was too soon to tell.

Belle moved toward the back of the house to wait for the man to come and find her. She was glad that the damage her father had caused, extensive as it was, hadn't found its way to the kitchen.

She wasn't hungry. She had a belly full of chicken wings and stuffed jalepenos from The Rabbit Hole, but she was thirsty and a headache was slamming in her temples.

 _I drank more than I should have last night,_ Belle pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. _Then the crying and no sleep on top of that...yes, it's a great start to the morning._

Belle smoothed her hands over the midnight blue sequins that covered her.

What had been thrilling at night just looked cheap in the harsh light of day. The dress was too tight, the skirt of it too short and the neckline far too low. Marcus had let his fingertip trace over the top curve of her breasts at the club, and she'd enjoyed it. The touch, the attention.

Now, though, she needed to face Mr. Gold and there was no way he wouldn't look down on her when she was dressed like this.

Belle absently resolved to stay seated or stand behind the kitchen counter and table when Mr. Gold came out of his room. Not that he hadn't gotten an eyeful of her the night before, but this wasn't their day in Sunshire. That day, she'd dressed up for him, showing a bit of thigh and let herself believe that they were a real couple out for a day of fun. Cold reality settled inside of her: they would never have a day like that again.

_Now, all he'll see when he looks at me is his smashed up house. I hate you, I really, really hate you, Moe French! You selfish bastard, you've ruined everything for me._

Belle couldn't help the impulse, she pounded the counter with her fist, her temper rising.

_I've done everything to help you, and what have you done to help me? Mr. Gold was right about you - you're no father, you've never cared about me. I'm glad mom left you and I'll be damned if I ever help you again._

Her anger was overriding her, and for a moment Belle saw red.

_I'm never seeing him again. Never again - I'll burn that damn flower shop to the ground before I give him one. More. Minute!_

Gulping in a breath of air, Belle fanned her face and hustled to the sink to flick cold water over her face. Oh, she had been angry before, but her insides felt twisted now. Her blood was on fire.

Belle stomped across the floor and found the cabinet she'd seen Mr. Gold reaching into when she had been his guest, not his prisoner, and pulled out the things she'd need for tea - the kettle, teabags, sugar.

_He brought me here in the middle of the night, forced me to accept his deal, and now where is he?!_

Belle slammed the cabinet door shut, hoping the noise would draw him out. She was being petty, she knew, but who was the one who demanded she stay just to keep up appearances?

And now the man thought he could keep her waiting, wondering what he had planned because he had all the power to crush her life and she was no one, just some poor girl from the wrong side of Storybrooke?

Belle slammed the cabinet door again, urging him to come out with the banging noise. Her anger had burned away the dread she'd had over seeing him again. Now she just wanted him to come out and start yelling at her so she could scream back at him.

_Get out here, Gold! Get out here and face me!_

The kettle had reached its boiling point and so had she. Belle took it off the stove, then brought out cream and started slicing a lemon. The mundane task of setting up only calmed her anger somewhat. It churned inside of her, a living thing that sought a target.

Belle looked up from the stove when she heard nearing footsteps, her smile a mean thing. She straightened to her full height, steeling herself to face off with the man.

_Step. Tap-step. Step. Tap-step. Step. Tap-step._

When he emerged from the hallway, Belle was surprised to see that he was not yet fully dressed, he was just wearing a deep burgundy shirt, shoes and trousers. No waistcoat, no tie, no jacket. Not even those strange thin bands of gold she'd spied on his upper arms the night before.

His hair looked messy, his eyes were tired, bloodshot. Clearly he hadn't slept, he was spent from his anger and the fight with her father. The cut on his lip and the bruising over his face stood darker in the morning light.

Not that Belle was feeling merciful.

"Good morning Mr. Gold." She piped up, immediately seizing the power of the room.

Belle knew what she was doing, and inside she was pleased to see him falter at her sudden, and rather loud, greeting to him.

 _Good, see how you like_ that!

She wanted to unbalance the man, give him a shock first thing. Her being both sweet and sharp would confuse him, take him off-guard. _Serves him right._

Behind her bright demeanor, Belle was furious. Angry with him, her father, the whole damn world.

Gold blinked. "Miss French, you're still here."

Belle set the kettle back onto the stove with a loud _clank_ , and brought down two mugs, setting them down with more force than was necessary.

"Where else would I be? I made my choice last night, just like you did."

The thread of accusation wasn't lost on him.

Gold saw she was still wearing the scandalous dress from her night out, but chose not to remark on it. He had already disrespected her enough by turning her into a pawn to bolster his reputation, there was no need for him to make things worse between them.

"You're up early." He said, trying for something easy. Belle deserved a hundred apologies from him and all he could summon for her now was some small talk.

"No, this is about normal for me. I like to get an early start." And avoid her father at all costs while she'd been staying at his house, but that bit she kept to herself.

Mr. Gold tapped the tip of his cane on the floor, once, twice, awkward and unsure what to say, then looked at the stove. "I see. I...are you making tea?"

"Yes. I thought you'd like a cup before you went to the shop." She quickly poured a cup for him.

"You don't have to trouble yourself-" Gold started, but Belle had already overridden him and pressed a cup into his hand.

She stood in too close to him, invading his personal space. "Have a seat." She dropped her voice at that, sure that he understood it was less a pleasant invitation and more a command.

Rather than refuse, Gold instead chose to obey, and took a seat at the table, setting the cane over his lap. "Is it poisoned?" He asked, half-serious.

Belle pulled out a chair for herself, letting it scrape loudly on the floor. She could see that her behavior was irritating him. _Good,_ she thought. Oh, she was giving her mean streak a wide berth this morning.

"No, I'm saving that for Monday." She told him sweetly.

Her eyes cut into him, her mind spinning with vindictive little plots she could enact against the man; she'd cut all his ties in half, switch out his cologne with vinegar, sneak in his room and braid his hair wile he was asleep.

Mr. Gold lowered his head, knowing very well that she was punishing him. "Noted." He took a tentative sip, unable to even taste the tea. "This is wonderful."

"Why, thank you."

Belle said nothing further, enjoying this horrible awkward silence, letting it weigh on the guilty man who sat across from her at the table.

Mr. Gold stared at his cup, staggered by the aftermath of the night before, his demand that she stay and the veiled anger she directed toward him.

This wasn't what he'd wanted for her.

Gold had wanted her with him for months, for them to spend more time together, uninterrupted by the town. He'd imagined her by his side, his companion and friend, his lover.

But now she was pushing against him, pulling that trick known to all women when displeased by a man: raw anger draped in pretended sweetness.

It wasn't fair. He didn't want her here, not like this, not forced to stay with him because of what her father-

 _Enough of this,_ he thought in sudden, remembered anger.

Who was she to flash attitude at _him,_ after what he'd lost the night before?!

"What are your plans for the day?"

With that one question, Mr. Gold seized the power back from her.

The reminder of the work she had ahead of her was enough to strip the wind from Belle's sails of self-righteousness. He had revealed himself as a bastard, yes, but he was still the bastard whose home had had been broken into, lest she forget.

Glancing over, Belle saw that a change had come over the man. He'd straightened in his seat, and his dark eyes were alert, staying on her face. Her game was at an end, that much was clear. Belle could sense that he wouldn't be cowed by her any further.

After the night before, she wouldn't push her luck.

"I...I have plenty of work ahead of me today."

"Hmm?" _Say it,_ he urged her with dark eyes.

"The front rooms." Belle huffed. She knew when she'd been bested, but she was damned if she was going to make things easy on him. "I told you I'd clean up the mess today and I will. I always follow through when I say I'll do something. Unlike some people, I'm honest about who I am."

Gold resisted the urge to remind her that he'd never lied to her about who he was, that she'd made the choice to ignore his warnings for the past year.

"I've no doubt."

He wasn't enjoying this.

Belle was angry with him, of course she was. Not only had he shattered the rose-colored illusion of him, but he'd twisted her arm, forcing her to stay with him, a man she could no longer trust.

And now, the woman had wanted to unnerve him with her little power play, but Gold couldn't even let her have that. Her attitude that morning had gotten under his skin, and he'd effectively put her in her place.

_I'm sorry I'm so broken._

Mr. Gold looked at her, searching for something beneath her anger, her resentment against him. It was there in her eyes, a spark of the thing he least deserved from this woman; sympathy. Belle was upset with him but her hatred was not complete.

Miracle of miracles, a piece of her still cared. He was damned if he could understand why.

"Miss French, I'm sure in time we'll both be able to make the best of this...arrangement."

Belle crossed her arms and openly glared at him. Her words were civil, her eyes were burning. "Oh, I'm sure we will."

He had meant his words to be reassuring, but they'd had the exact opposite effect. He needed to get away from her, to get away from this house and the fury and pain from the night before. And she needed space from him, he could see that as well.

A tactical retreat was called for, distance to allow them time to relieve their tension.

Abruptly, the man stood from the table. "I'll be back later on this afternoon, with a handyman to repair the walls and repaint. Good day, Miss French."

"See you real soon, Mr. Gold."

And it was there in her voice, that mix of anger and threat against him, paired with the pain in her eyes that haunted him throughout the day.


	17. Reparations

It had been hours since Gold had left his house, slinking out like a thief to avoid any further confrontation with the tiny woman he'd left in the kitchen. He wasn't afraid of Miss French herself, but he did fear upsetting her further by saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing.

He couldn't see her last shred of sympathy for him die. He'd already let her see him at his worst; his temper hot and violent, and then cold and commanding, forcing her to choose.

_No. It wasn't a choice, it was a prison sentence._

As he sat at his workbench, Gold struggled to focus on the Faberge egg before him, but he might as well scramble the damn thing for all the good it was doing him as a distraction from the woman he'd coerced into his home.

It had been a terrible night, but there would be no others to match it.

Gold would see to that.

Sighing, and turning the colorful egg in his hands, he reflected on the adage of 'Be careful what you wish for...'

It seemed that Mr. Gold was a man cursed to get what he wanted.

He now had Belle in his home, but that simple desire to have her with him had come to be in the form of a nightmare - his monstrous side exposed, forcing her into such a choice, seeing her tears because of what he'd shattered between them...

_But I will not let her go._

Gold tightened his grip on the egg.

Not until everyone in Storybrooke knew how far he would go in retaliation if a client - if _anyone_ \- thought to strike at him again. He had to protect himself and what little he had left from those who would cheat him, steal from him or challenge his position.

If that idiot had only broken into his home and stolen the silver or the like, then Gold would have called the sheriff, upgraded his locks and the issue would be put to rest.

But, no.

No. Moe French had broken in and laid waste to his home, and taken a possession that Gold held above all others for its meaning to him.

His hands tensed, and his eyes shot to the safe in the wall behind the shop counter, reassuring himself that it was well hidden, the code known only to him, the object within entirely safe once again after he'd taken it back.

Good. It would stay that way.

 _I might have killed that man, had she not come in and found us._ Gold thought as he reflected back on that night. His panic had been swallowed by his rage, which in turn had cooled to determination and sorrow as that awful night had worn on, and Belle had been pulled into this madness.

And now she waited in his home.

And she would stay there, or Gold would finish what her father started.

All he could do now was make her sentence chained to him somehow more pleasant.

_____________________________

While Gold plotted and schemed, Belle swept and cleaned.

After the man had left the house, retreating back to his shop, she had changed out of Ruby's dress and put on the pajamas that he had let her borrow on Friday night. That seemed forever ago, it'd been the last time she'd seen her friend...but Belle could long for him later.

She had a lot of work ahead of her and didn't have the luxury of time to dwell on the fragments of her friendship with Mr. Gold. Belle shook her head clear of thoughts on the man, and stripped herself of sequins. She didn't want to sweat all over the dress, not to mention how impractical it was for housework. So, she rolled the ankles and sleeves of his pajamas, laced up her sneakers and got to work.

 _First thing's first,_ Belle had thought to herself as she took on the living room.

She dragged the ripped chairs and the ottoman from the house, leaving them on the curb for trash pickup. The end tables and the coffee table were splintered, cracked across the surface, each with a leg broken off. They joined the other furniture out on the curb.

Once the largest casualties were cleared from the room, Belle retrieved large black trash bags and stuffed them with the torn canvases of oil paintings; broken shelves; the torn, spray-painted pages of his books; smashed curios; several broken picture frames and the cloth runner that had lined the empty hearth beneath the mantel.

There was a space on the wall, bare but for the wires left behind and in a blink, Belle realized what had happened.

_Wonderful._

Her father had helped himself to Mr. Gold's television.

Belle took a deep breath to stop her temper from overwhelming her reason.

Despite the catty way she'd behaved toward Mr. Gold that morning, Belle knew fully well that the only one who was to blame was her own father. He had done this, set off this entire chain of events that had risked his life and may have ruined a friendship.

Belle looked down at the broken piece she held carefully in her hand, realizing with a start that it was half of a porcelain saucer. Blue and white, with a swirling, gilded design circling it, part of the teaset that Mr. Gold had bought in Sunshire for them to share in his home.

They would never share this set now. They might never share anything again.

_You did this, Moe French._

Belle swiped at the tears on her cheeks and dropped the broken saucer shard in with the other trash, all that was left of Mr. Gold's living room. Yes, she was furious with her father, but more than anything, she just felt so betrayed by him. Moe could have done anything else, to any _one_ else, but he'd chosen to strike the one man that Belle held close to her heart.

She blinked away tears that rose in her eyes and sniffed, keeping her hands busy with the cleaning.

Moe French hadn't stopped her when she'd gone away with Mr. Gold, a stranger to her as far as her father knew, and ruthlessly vicious besides. Belle had never seen Mr. Gold in that light, to her he had never been anything less than wonderful.

But her friend had been pushed, Belle knew. Her father had pushed Mr. Gold into becoming the beast that Storybrooke saw, but she knew he was better than that. He wasn't a monster; it had taken his home to be near destroyed for the cool veneer of civilized man to crack, and reveal the passion beneath.

It was passion of anger, of vengeance, and shocking to see, but passion nonetheless, something Belle had only caught a glimpse of in their moment before the mirror.

Belle shivered, recalling it.

Mr. Gold was not a monster. He was a man of great temper when pushed, opposite to all she'd seen of him...no, he was not a monster, he was only human, despite what he might like to think.

A small, unbidden smile slipped across her lips.

While Mr. Gold claimed to want her in his home to send a message to anyone else who thought to steal from him, Belle knew there had to be another reason.

In the raw aftermath of his anger, he'd wanted to use her as a pawn, and, looking out to the curb, to a life violated and destroyed, Belle felt something inside of her surrender.

A strong, silent decision was made.

_Yes. If that's what he wants from me...I'll give it to him._

Belle would play the role of Mr. Gold's prize. Give in. Let herself be the message sent to Storybrooke, the living proof of the man's power.

That's what the town would see.

But Belle knew that couldn't be all she was to him. She'd seen it, felt it for months.

 _There's more between us, I know it._ Belle thought as she hauled a bulging trash bag to the curb.

Yes, she would speak with Mr. Gold when he returned from the shop.

She would apologize for what her father had done and for the way she'd behaved toward him that morning.

But for now, she had a mess to clear.

_______________________________

Getting back to the cleaning, Belle went on stuffing the trash bags with whatever debris she could pick up without the risk of slicing her hands on broken glass or splintered wood.

Among the broken odds and ends scattered over the living room floor, from ceramic bookends and a carved wooden mask, Belle raised her brows to see that Mr. Gold had a few pictures of their mayor and her son.

There had always been rumors about them, given that they both held power over the town and worked closely together; Belle had seen for herself that they were fierce rivals but there was affection between them as well. Some potent mix of friend and foe.

Only Gold and Regina knew the truth.

Belle set the freed photographs safely aside on the mantel so he could reframe them later and got back to work.

Taking a broom from the laundry room, Belle swept up all the glass and the smaller debris from the floor. She made a thorough job of it, going over the room twice to be safe. She decided against mopping, sure that it would be a wasted effort as the service crew would be treating the gouges in the floor.

The navy suit jacket Mr. Gold had left behind she brought into the laundry room off the kitchen. Belle wasn't sure how to treat the material, given that he'd carelessly let it soak up the alcohol her father had spilled all over the living room, but she thought to take it to a dry cleaner and then if they could clean it, she would sew the tear in the shoulder herself.

Mr. Gold might appreciate the extra effort when she returned it to him, but in Belle's mind it was only the right thing to do.

What her father had ruined, Belle would restore.

 _And that includes our friendship,_ Belle thought with a spark of hope as she swiped away the sweat from her forehead. She had agreed to stay in his house and play into his charade; perhaps in time, with her staying here, they could get back to where they were, where they belonged.

She refused to think of anything beyond that.

The living room was cleared but for the couch, a slashed and spray-painted monstrosity that had no place here anymore. She couldn't bring it to the curb, all she'd been able to do was move it against the wall, out of the way for the time being. Surely Mr. Gold's service would dispose of it.

The formal dining room had suffered more damage, but it held fewer things and so once she'd brought out the chairs - all of them having suffered in one way or another, from the cushions being slashed and the stuffing pulled out, the arms or legs having been broken off, the wood spray-painted with that odious black - along with the lighting fixture, Belle was able to clear the floor and as she'd done with the couch, push the larger dining room table against the wall.

As for the graffiti her father had used to disgrace Mr. Gold's home, there was nothing that Belle could do to fix it, so she covered it instead.

The work had taken hours, and by the time noon hit the house, she was ready to drop. Her body ached but the rooms were clear, and she felt proud of the progress she'd made. Mr. Gold would be back soon, at about lunchtime, as he'd told her that morning. She thought he would be pleased with her efforts, if not her appearance.

Belle weighed her options on taking a shower. On the one hand, she didn't want to be caught in the bath by Mr. Gold - nevermind her private fantasies - but the frightful sight that greeted her in the mirror was what decided her.

The woman had worked hard for hours, not a moment had been idle and the proof was in the sweat over her forehead, under her arms and between her breasts. Her hair still carried the faint smell of stale cigarettes from her night at The Rabbit Hole, and a halo of frizz had erupted over her head.

Belle scowled at her reflection and decided a shower was worth it. She would wash Mr. Gold's pajamas when she had the chance, and change back into Ruby's dress once more. Hopefully she would be back in her own clothes soon enough. It wasn't all for Mr. Gold; she wasn't dressing up for him, Belle wanted to be clean for her own sense of self, to restore some of the confidence she'd lost.

Looking over the lower level of the house once more to make sure she hadn't missed anything, the woman ran upstairs into the guestroom. On reaching the bathroom inside it, she was quick to strip down and jump into the shower.

There was no shampoo and the only soap to use was the old Dove bar from the night before, but the pounding hot water was more than enough to rid Belle of the filth that coated her skin. She scrubbed with the bar and washcloth, then rinsed thoroughly before grabbing a large towel and drying off. Her irritation grew deeper being without her usual beauty tools on hand - her comb, her preferred hair products and makeup - but she was out of options and nearly out of time.

There had only been a few things in her duffel bag that she could use now: a handful of hair ties and bobby pins, which she used to put her hair up into a ballerina bun, and a tinted moisturizer that did wonders to even out the redness of her skin. Quickly, she replaced her underwear and Ruby's dress again, the soiled clothes ruining the cleansing of the shower, but Belle at least felt a bit more put together now.

Being out of her element was still unsettling; she wanted her clothes and her grooming kit, both to assert herself for her own peace of mind and to remind Mr. Gold who she was.

She glanced at the clock on the desk, suddenly impatient for the man to come. The sooner Mr. Gold came back with the maintenance service, the sooner Belle could retrieve her things from her father's house.

But that in itself posed a problem. Her father. What could she tell him? What would he say when she saw him again?

And speaking of...

Belle checked her cell. She'd left it upstairs all day, letting it charge while she'd been busy taking care of the mess. Looking at the screen, she frowned, sure it was wrong. She turned it off, powered it back on, checked it again to be sure.

Not one message.

Belle sank down to sit on the edge of the bed.

_He doesn't care about you the way a father should._

Mr. Gold had said the words to her the night before, and here was the proof.

______________________________

Gold hung up the line after confirming his needs with Storybrooke's lone home service, and then looked about his shop, wondering what he should do next.

The service crew would be up to the house in about an hour, and if she had been true to her word, then Miss French had been cleaning the front rooms while he'd been away at the shop. He didn't doubt her promise, but there had been so much mess in his home, and she was just one woman...he doubted she had even finished clearing one room by now.

Yes, his home had been violated and his possessions destroyed, but Gold had only cared for the one. Miss French didnt know what it was, or why he prized it above all others. All she knew was that he'd attacked her father and then demanded she stay under his roof, make a show of it for everyone else who thought they might strike at him and walk away.

She had been angry with him when he'd left, but he'd seen that morning that she didn't hate him. If she did, and if she truly feared him, he knew she never would have stayed, nevermind his threat against her father.

Belle wasn't lost to him yet.

The man had plenty of experience with women, but this situation with Miss French was _unique_ , to say the least. He couldn't easily charm his way back into her good graces yet, he knew, and he couldn't force his way, either.

Hard experience had taught him the ways of the fairer sex. Their flares of temper, the paths to their forgiveness, the unspoken words read in the set of their shoulders, the curve of their lips and the flash in their eyes.

As was true for every man, Gold had earned his share of odd female punishment when he'd upset his wife and the lovers that had come after her, and so he knew the solution.

Gold would open with a small gift to show he meant her no harm, and then step back, give her run of the house and allow her time to adjust. In time, that easy warmth between them may be restored. This awful weekend would be forgotten; it would be as if this _unpleasantness_ had never even happened.

He bristled at the thought. He knew no gift could repair them, but it would be a start, a way to open the door. In time he knew he would have no choice but to talk to Belle, explain things, but it was far too soon for that, to open himself that way.

In time, when things were warm between them.

And perhaps in time, and he could dare to hope again that she would be his.

______________________________

Gold was intent to head straight to the house to check her progress and meet the service company, but he paused on locking up the shop. The bakery further down the street caught his eye, four storefronts down from Belle's library. By chance, Gold had seen her slip inside a few times, perhaps to meet with her girlfriends or maybe she had been looking for work.

Inspired, Gold set off down the street to the bakery and, after a few discreet questions, made a small purchase and then made his way back for the car. Seeing that Belle had spent countless hours volunteering her time in a failing florist shop, Gold was confident that she would not be impressed with the gift of flowers.

Besides that, Gold had no wish to see her father ever again.

Not now that he had what he wanted from the man.

So, unsure of what he would find back at the house, but feeling determined, Gold drove home. There were several large trash bags and his destroyed furniture was already out on the curb. He frowned to see the living room chairs, slashed, stained, ruined in the bright light of day. He and his wife had spent hours in those chairs; talking, arguing, taunting each other over chess boards and buzzing games of _Operation!_

Now look at them. Garbage on the curb, destined for a dump furnace.

He stepped in through the front door, blinking to let his eyes adjust from the brightness of outside. "Miss French?"

"In here!" She called back to him.

Gold stopped short at the sight of the living room, foyer and dining room. They were all cleared of debris, the graffiti covered with old towels and bedsheets tacked to the walls. The rooms were empty but for the largest pieces of ruined furniture, but that was fine, the service would see to their removal. The last time these rooms had been so empty had been before he'd claimed the house, decades ago.

"How did she do all this?" He murmured to himself, amazed by her efforts.

Belle came out of the kitchen with a smile on her face but trepidation in her eyes. She was nervous to see him again, she wasn't sure where they stood with each other. Well. She wasn't alone in that, but Gold would ease her nerves where he could.

He raised a brow to see she was still wearing the short, sparkling dress from the night before and that morning. "You've done a very good job. With the mess, I mean."

"Thank you." Belle fidgeted, shifting her weight as he looked at her. "Are you hungry at all? I could make you some lunch..."

It was awkward. Neither of them was sure of what to say, the elephant in the room was standing right there, flapping his wide ears.

Gold made a noncommittal noise with his throat and nodded, following her back into the kitchen where she'd been helping herself to a light lunch, just a sandwich and a bottle of water. He frowned lightly at that. The woman was too thin.

Belle moved behind the kitchen counter to hide her bare legs, exposed as they were by Ruby's tiny dress.

"I'm not too hungry, don't trouble yourself." Gold said when he saw her reaching to fix him a plate. "You can finish your lunch. Tell me what you did after I left."

Belle cleared her throat and moved out from behind the counter, bracing her hands on the back of her kitchen chair as he stood nearby. "There's nothing to tell, really. I took a look around and I figured, why waste the day?" She shrugged. "Best to get it all out."

"You've done so much, you must be exhausted." He said, and reached toward her.

For a moment, the man had forgotten everything, and reached to take her arm, intent to lead her into the chair so that she might rest, but Belle was quicker. She stepped back, out of his reach, her posture suddenly rigid, and it all came back to him: she was only here because he'd forced her to be, and she didn't welcome his presence, let alone his touch.

They weren't friends any longer.

Belle said nothing, thankfully. He wasn't sure if he could take it if she snapped at him not to touch her. She went on as if the awkward moment had not just passed between them.

"I know you said to get rid of it all, but I saw a few things that I want to try salvaging. Luckily dad didn't get his hands on everything." She said, forcing a laugh.

"You don't have to do that."

Belle swept a lock of hair behind her ear. "I know, but I'm going to try."

Gold simply looked at her, this woman who had spent half a day working hard to clear the debris from his home without a word of complaint. She didn't welcome his touch as she had before; he had done this, made her his prisoner, his price for her father's trespass.

He should have brought her a chain of emeralds rather than the tart. Still, "I brought you a little something." He said, sliding a small paper box across the counter to her.

Belle took the familiar box from him, recognizing the bakery logo, her eyes going wide with sudden sweet appetite when she saw what was inside. A perfectly round swirl of pale frosting topped a fragrant wedge of cake. It was such a small thing, this cupcake, but Belle was genuinely touched. "My favorite flavor! You talked to Jessica, didn't you?"

"I might have made a slight inquiry." Gold conceded.

He had been amused to learn that Belle favored the fruit infused cakes (strawberry, raspberry-vanilla swirl, and her favorite, the simple, sweet lemon) rather than drowning herself in rich chocolate and peanut butter like most of the customers the baker had mentioned.

 _To each their own,_ he supposed. He preferred the vanilla bean and cinnamon cakes, himself.

"There's a bookmark there as well." He added, tilting his head toward the kitchen counter.

With her smile at the surprise gifts, it felt for a moment that things between them were back to normal. Belle was only his houseguest once more, and she'd happily waited for him to come home...

It was too easy to let himself fall into that fantasy.

Already giddy with a mouthful of lemon bliss, Belle swallowed and took a closer look at the mark. She recognized it, he'd brought in a roll of the material to use when restoring rare books in the shop. "The gilded scroll, look at that! What's the occasion?"

Truly, the last thing she expected were any gifts from the man. Not after all this...

Gold rested his hands atop the handle of the cane, his arms forming a defensive V between them. "Peace offering."

Belle frowned, "Peace offering? But I wasn't-"

_Ding-dong._

Gold glanced past her, to the front door. "That'll be the maintenance, right on time. Please excuse me, Miss French."

Gold limped past her to greet the handyman on the porch, Jacob Land. Belle decided to remain in the kitchen for a minute, not wanting to be there in the room when Gold had to explain the inevitable: that it was her idiot of a father who'd caused so much damage the night before.

She'd received enough subtle looks on her own just from being related to the man, she couldn't stand to see what would surely be the handyman's dropped jaw.

Belle listened as Mr. Gold greeted the man, their voices carrying through the cleared house. As she'd cleaned, the woman had resolved herself to go along with Mr. Gold's want to make an example of her, but she would do it on her terms.

Moving toward the front, Gold opened the door to find Jacob waiting on the porch, his tool belt slung low on his hips. Looking past him, he saw two others stepping out of the back of the van parked before the house. "Good afternoon Mr. Gold, how can we help you today?"

Gold genuinely liked this young man; he always made his loan payments on time and had taken Gold's advice to heart. As a result, his handiwork and painting business was doing very well. It was a rare and pleasant thing when someone openly followed Gold's business acumen.

Gold stepped aside to let him into the house, "I've some painting and drywall work that needs doing, some molding needs to be replaced and the gouging in the floors must be seen to as well."

Jacob glanced to his men and made a quick gesture with his free hand. Gold watched as they began withdrawing painting ladders and carpentry equipment from the van. Very efficient. "Yes, sir. Lead the way."

Gold did not have to lead him far. It was only a few steps into the front room and then the dining room just across from it. He let the disasters speak for themselves. Despite Belle's best efforts, the damage was clear.

Baffled, Jacob reached to feel the depth of the nearest dent in the wall. "What happened to-?"

"Moe French let himself in last night and did some rearranging."

Jacob shook his head, "French did all this? Man must have a death wish." He said, more to himself than to Gold, and was reminded then that Moe still owed him $75 that he was sure he'd never get back.

Gold nodded at Jacob's comment. The younger man knew of Gold's sometimes unorthodox methods in business and couldn't say he blamed him - as strict and cunning as Gold was, the man got results.

"My thoughts exactly, but he and I came to a different agreement."

"Really?" Jacob squatted down to feel a deep gouge in the floor. The damage was heavy and he wondered if the entire house had suffered through the rampage. "What could French give you to make up for all this?"

It was then that Belle chose to enter the room, allowing herself to be seen in Ruby's scandalous dress, in Mr. Gold's house. She could have stayed hidden, but she had made her choice to stay with him, play the role he wanted her to play. She knew what she was doing, setting the scene like this, and letting the handyman jump straight to the conclusion that Gold had wanted him to.

She was his prize. The pretty librarian, taken in and corrupted in by the town monster.

Well.

She had given her word.

Belle would own it, starting now.

Her eyes fixed on the stranger, the handyman, for just a moment before she turned to address Gold, her voice soft. "I forgot to tell you, after cleaning up in the front I watered the backyard and left your mail from Saturday on the kitchen table."

Mr. Gold nodded, confused by this meek behavior from her, she who was usually so open and bubbly. "I...thank you, Miss French." He glanced over to notice Jacob appreciating Belle in the short dress and narrowed his eyes. "Could you wait for me in the kitchen? I'll be joining you shortly."

Belle nodded. "Yes, Mr. Gold. I'll start your tea."

They watched as the woman retreated back to the kitchen, and Gold felt possessiveness claw its way through his chest as the other man's eyes lingered on Belle's hips and exposed legs. "See something interesting?"

Jacob shook his head, snapping out of it. "I, uh, no, sir. We'll have most of the house restored in a couple hours. We don't do windows, though. You'll have to call a separate company to replace the panes in your door and living room."

Still unsettled by Belle's behavior, Gold nodded to Jacob. "Thank you, I'll call a glass company a little later. We'll be just there, in the kitchen if you need anything. Please let me know once you've finished."

Jacob nodded as the other workers began to file into the house, bearing a ladder, buckets of paint and material for repairing the walls and floors. "Yes, sir. We'll try to keep the noise down."

Gold nodded again and turned toward the kitchen.


	18. The Gilded Cage

As the service crew began to set up their equipment in the front of the house and make a plan on how best to repair all the damage, Gold likewise did his best to keep his temper in check as he returned to the kitchen to find his clever guest.

"Miss French, just what was that?" He demanded after he shut the kitchen door, ensuring they wouldn't easily be overheard by Jacob or the others in the crew.

"You were about to explain it to him, what you got in return from my father for all the damage he caused. Putting _this,_ " Belle gestured between them. "Into words is going to be awkward for us both, so instead I just gave him a visual and let him fill in the blanks."

What she said made sense, but the way she'd gone about it, the way Jacob had looked at her and the way people would look at her going forward...Gold wasn't certain he wanted this anymore. For her.

Was it too late to take it all back? He could pay Jacob to forget what he'd seen - _But that might not be what Miss French wants_ , a dark voice whispered to him.

"You don't know him as I do. He gossips worse than any fishwife." Gold shifted his weight, thinking of how the stories would grow with each retelling - from mere companionship to debauchery and violence. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Your performance just now may have planted the seed that I attacked you along with your father. But perhaps that's what you want, to play the victim and paint me into more of a monster."

"Oh, you think I can make you look like even more of a monster to this town? I'm glad this deal is starting off so well for you, then." Belle said lightly as she flopped into a kitchen chair, her legs hanging over the arm. She'd been ready to apologize for how she'd behaved that morning but his accusation just then got under her skin. "You only wanted me here so you would look powerful, and I would look like your consolaion prize after what my father did. I'm just trying to help you keep up this charade of yours."

"After everything you've seen of me, how can you still think this is a charade?"

At that question, Belle stood from the chair and stood up to him. "Because I was upset with you last night and this morning. For a while it made me think the worst of you, but as I was cleaning, seeing everything my father ruined...I understand it. You want me to stay, to send a message. I let your handyman see me like this-" here she gestured to her dress "-so your message would be sent. It won't be long before word spreads, and people see that I'm living here. When people start asking, I'll tell them I'm staying with you, and I'll tell them why."

"Your father? You'll tell them that he-"

"Broke in and trashed the house and stole something worth attacking him over? Yes. And that's all I'll say. I won't tell anyone you're cruel to me or that you hit me or that you've asked me to do anything other than clean up my father's mess." She told him, and her voice broke on what she said next, "Because you haven't, and I know you won't. Because as much as you _want_ to be, you are not a monster."

_Hard-headed, stubborn, wonderful woman._

"I...Miss French...thank you." He looked down, away from her eyes, unsure what to say, but he had to know. "Why do you still defend me after what you've seen and why are you going along with this? You know what people will say."

At that, Belle paused before answering.

"I've never cared what the town thinks of me." Their eyes met. "Or you."

"And yet it was your idea that we keep our friendship a secret."

"Not because I wasn't proud to have you as my friend. I was proud. I still am. You know I only suggested we keep things a secret because it would be easier than having to listen to a lecture every time I talked to you in public. Now, though, I'll be living with you."

Belle let her words hang in the air. He understood. No one would bother to warn her once the news hit that she shared the man's roof, and by implication, his bed.

Gold's jaw tensed.

This woman was willing to play the martyr, the captive, the _whore_ , to satisfy his need to show power. In a very real way, Belle was sacrificing herself to him.

"You want to be respected, Mr. Gold." She went on, "I know that you've found the easiest way to get that respect is through fear, and to get that fear, you've built yourself into a monster. And now here I am, part of the monster's hoard."

Her words, even when spoken so gently, flayed him.

"Miss French, I don't want this anym-"

"He's probably just texted the whole town about me being here, your latest trophy." She gestured to the front of the house, where they could hear the service crew setting up, ready to tackle the damage to his home. "You're getting exactly what you wanted."

She dared to reach for him, her hand lifting as if to touch his face or stroke his hair. Gold caught her hand in his. "That wasn't the only reason I asked you to stay."

Belle pulled her hand from his grasp, her temper rising against this percieved rejection of her touch. "Oh, you asked me? I must have missed the request part of this deal while you were threatening my father."

When would it end for them, this awful suspicion and anger and pain?

It'd been less than a day and Belle was sick of it.

She wanted her friend back and she would bet down to her last nickel that Mr. Gold wanted the same, but it was too soon. She could see that the man was still raw from the violation of his home, and she was still raw from the shame of her father's mortifying offense.

To cover her hurt, Belle moved to the table and finished off the last of her cupcake.

Her resentment against the situation had poisoned the treat. What had once been sweet was now bitter on her tongue. She hastily took a gulp from the water she'd left on the table to clear the taste.

"He's earned more than just a threat from me, Belle." Gold reminded her, hackles rising.

He'd regretted his offer the moment he'd spoken it aloud and seen her eyes narrow on him in suspicion. Now, though, she just stared back at him in a look of combined pity and defiance.

"You just called me-"

"I apologize, Miss French." Gold said, backtracking away from her name.

Disappointment fell upon the woman, further heating her simmering temper. "Oh, yes, you wouldn't want to get too familiar with the help."

"I didn't mean-"

"Forget it, it's fine." Belle huffed. "Anyway, now that you're back, I'm leaving."

She started to walk past him, toward the back door, but the man held her arm, stopping her.

"Where are you going?" Gold demanded, his voice suddenly more hostile than he'd intended.

Belle didn't even blink. "I'm going home to check on my father, unless you already paid him another visit and I should look for him at the cemetary instead?"

Gold was not used to this, for anyone to stand up to him so readily, for someone to have a snapping response to his every word. How perverse was he to be both aroused by her temper and so remorseful for flashing temper of his own?

"No. I'll keep to the deal I offered you. Your father is safe-"

"-So long as I stay here with you." Belle finished the terms of his offer from the night before. "But you never said I couldn't see him again, and even though he's the last person I want to see, I need to go back for my things. If you want the town to think I'm your kept woman or prisoner or whatever you had in mind, I'm not going to do it in this dress."

Gold was silent as he watched her slip out of the house and he didn't move to stop her. There was a new boundary between them now. It seemed they couldn't be in the same room for more than a few minutes before aggravating one another.

The man took a deep breath.

His connection with Miss French wasn't entirely ruined, but for the first time in the year and change that they'd known each other, things were uncomfortable. The warmth they'd shared had been cooled by suspicion, and Gold was alarmed by how much he missed her.

Gold scowled, tapping his cane on the floor. He should never have posed his deal to her, and he shouldn't have let his temper over everything get the better of him.

He was being horribly unfair, accusing her of trying to capitalize on this.

Belle was going along with his scheme, uncaring of appearances and the full weight of a town's gossip that would land on her shoulders and she'd said not a word of complaint.

Her acceptance of this was what angered him; he wanted her to challenge him on it, fight him. Insult him, slap him, scream at him - anything would be better than this, accepting the shadow that would fall on her for associating with him.

But, no. Belle had cleaned the front rooms just as he'd asked and made a show of her being here to Jacob Land. She was forcing him to face his shame in this way, the clever thing.

Perhaps she truly didn't care what the people would think - what could be said about her as Gold's perceieved mistress that hadn't already been said about her as Moe French's daughter?

He sighed.

Gold's grip tightened on the handle of his cane. He would give her space, more time to better acquaint herself with her new home. After they'd both calmed, he would apologize and they would talk. They'd been close for over a year, he knew that she would listen. He would explain himself, and do his best to help her understand.

But he would not let her go.

Gold left the kitchen and went into the front of the house, pleased to see that Jacob and his crew had already begun to repair the damage done to the walls the night before.

If only it would be so easy to patch things with Miss French.

______________________________

Belle took a deep breath to steady her nerves before she stepped into her father's house.

Her walk across Storybrooke, from Mr. Gold'd house to her father's, had been uneventful. With the library, the pawn shop, and the banks being closed, sleepy little Storybrooke was even quieter on Sundays. Belle passed few people on the sidewalk and even fewer cars were rolling through the streets.

That was fine with her, she didn't need the whole town out and about to see her walking around in a dress better suited to clubbing.

The woman pushed open the front door, déjà vu sweeping over her as she relived entering this house the night before to find Mr. Gold ready to put a finishing move on her father.

She glanced into the living room, almost expecting to see them again, but it was empty. Belle called out a "Hello?" but there was no answer. The whole house was empty, not just the living room.

Belle was glad about that, she didn't know what she would do when she saw the man.

Anger that she had suppressed for years was coming to the surface and it had taken _this_ for her to face just how much of her life Moe French had ruined.

Her father was the one to blame for everything - her mother leaving, her near constant stress and shame, and now this, the rift that had opened between her and Mr. Gold, rocking them to the point where they didn't even know how to talk to each other anymore.

Moe French had stolen more than just some trinket the night before, he'd stolen Belle's friend, her first true chance at love.

Walking down the hallway to her old room, Belle knocked a picture of her father with a big bass at the end of his fishing line off the wall, happy to hear the frame shatter. What did she care? This house was not her home and she was done cleaning up her father's messes. _Let him clean up after me for once._

Dr. Hopper might be pleased with this internal progress; a step in the right direction even if a touch destructive.

Belle stepped into her old bedroom and unzipped her duffel bag, grabbing her dirty clothes out of the hamper and shoving them inside. She scowled. Wrinkled her nose. The house still smelled like it did after every poker night: a stale mingling of beer and cigarettes and marijuana that was enough to make her long for The Rabbit Hole.

She would do laundry as soon as she made it back to Mr. Gold's. Extra detergent. Extra _bleach._

Belle went into the bathroom and took up her hair things and the rest of her makeup, hurrying now. She didn't want to be here any longer than she had to.

_This was home when we were still a family. I hate it here, now. I never should have come back. I should have just spent the money, booked a room somewhere. Then I never would have been pulled into this mess._

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Belle followed a hunch and went to her father's room. Her frown deepened: he had a new flat screen television on the floor, leaning against the wall. Moe could never afford something like that on his own, the television had to belong to Mr. Gold. One of the prizes from his crime spree the night before.

Belle worried her lip, staring at it.

She could take it with her, return it to Mr. Gold, but it would draw a lot of attention if she was seen struggling to carry a television and her duffel bag all the way across town and into his house.

No.

No, she would come for the television tomorrow. Maybe after she finished at the library, Mr. Gold could drive her back to her father's and she could just load it into his trunk to bring it back to his house.

Belle sighed and left, wondering how to bring it up in conversation with the man.

Mr. Gold still wasn't himself, he was being snappish and accusing her of trying to spin their arrangement in one minute, and then thanking her for defending him in the next.

Belle knew this wasn't just about his house, or whatever thing her father had stolen. It was about him. Mr. Gold was intensely private, and to have his home, his sactuary, violated must have been an awful blow to his confidence.

_The untouchable Mr. Gold, breached by a petty criminal._

Having Belle stay in his home would send his message of warning loud and clear, but it would also keep her close to him and far from her father.

Belle supposed she should thank him for that, but how to bring it up when she saw him next?

She laughed to herself as she rounded the corner out of her neighborhood and began heading through the commercial streets of Storybrooke.

_I'll ask him tomorrow. 'Mr. Gold, why did you really ask me to stay with you? Was I just a way to send a warning or were you lonely?'_

She didn't expect an answer, he would probably be back to his aloof self by the next day.

Belle knew something about lonliness. She knew something about sadness and loss, too. She knew that Mr. Gold wasn't half the monster he pretended to be, or she never would have remained a friend to him all this time.

 _And we are still friends_ , Belle asserted to herself. _This has been a terrible weekend, but it hasn't killed us._

No.

That explosive temper, his effort to bolster a notorious reputation - Belle thought she could live with knowing this side of the man, and in return she would need to be honest with him as well.

They needed to speak.

Only then could they hope to move forward.

Belle paused in the street, shifted the duffle on her shoulder and decided to bite the bullet at Granny's, see if the word had spread yet. Mr. Gold had said the handyman who'd seen her was a gossip; she was anxious, both dreading and excited about being found out.

In a way, she was reminded of when she'd run to hide behind the curtain of his shop while he attended to a customer. Only days ago it had been a cheap little thrill, but this was different.

The woman slunk into the diner and grabbed a booth near the window, eyes roaming the other customers, half expecting everyone there to start pointing. No one seemed to notice her, though.

Well, it'd only been a few hours. Maybe their arrangement wasn't common knowledge just yet.

"Hey, stranger."

Belle started, looking up to see Ruby standing over her. "Ah! Oh, Ruby, hi. Sorry, I was miles away and didn't see you."

She raised a brow at her friend. "Are you all right?"

"I...yes, I'm fine. Just jumpy, I guess. I've had a lot of coffee."

Ruby rubbed her temple knowingly. "I feel your pain, believe me. God, after everything I drank last night I had to eat a bag of coffee beans just to make it out of bed."

Belle would confide her own rough morning, but now wasn't the time or place.

"Ruby, you haven't...heard anything about me, have you?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing. Forget I asked."

Ruby narrowed her eyes. "Why? You didn't, you know, _do_ anything last night, did you?"

"No! No, nothing like that." Belle said quickly. "I just...you'll probably hear about it soon enough. I'll see you later."

"Wait, you don't want anything?" Ruby asked in confusion as Belle stood from the booth.

Belle pulled the duffle strap over her shoulder, shaking her head. "No, I...I just wanted to see how you were recovering from last night."

She shrugged. "Same as after every late night out. I'm grumpy and hungover. You're so lucky your job is closed every Sunday. All I get is to come in a couple hours later than I would during the week. Are you sure you don't want a slice of pie or something?"

Belle shook her head, looking around, wondering if anyone there knew yet or if she was just driving herself crazy. "No, I'm good. Maybe tomorrow. I'll see you."

Ruby gave her a strange look and waved as Belle left the diner, "Okay, bye."

Belle left Granny's, feeling unsettled, and moved down the street and around the corner, a sudden curiosity getting the better of her. Rather than head back to Mr. Gold's, she walked down to her apartment. The block was much quieter now with the building completely empty. She stood before the chainlink perimeter; tarps, machinery, painting ladders, blocking equipment and chemical cans separating her from the front steps of what had been her home for the last few years.

The apartment was small and plain, the only part of it that she'd made any real effort to decorate being the bedroom, but it was _hers,_ wasn't it?

Her own little slice of Storybrooke.

Belle missed her bed, her view over the street below, the simple feeling of being _home,_ not a burdensome guest in someone else's.

The construction was still going on, she could often hear it even from down the street while she was working at the library, but the crew was finished for the day. The building was quiet now, and nowhere near complete.

What would happen when the building was finished? Would she still be staying with Mr. Gold by then or will he have already released her from their arrangement?

She had no idea.

Mr. Gold was so unpredictable, now.

Before, she known him on a surface level - his favored authors, his sense of humor, his taste in music and food and clothes, his talents in drawing and little magic tricks. But on reflection, they'd rarely spoken of _him_ , his past or anything of much consequence. Hell, it had taken over a year before learning he'd once been married, and that he'd let slip by accident.

Belle realized now that part of their friendship had been by design; Mr. Gold often steered their conversations away from anything about him, instead he would distract her with his antique pieces or something of the like, a game, a harmless bit of gossip or trivia.

While the man had enjoyed her company, he'd never wanted her to know too much about his personal life.

_Mr. Gold, whose first name is Mystery._

Ever since she'd glimpsed his temper he was even more of a puzzle, and they'd been locking horns since she'd accepted his offer to stay on in his house.

Well.

 _Maybe we wouldn't be at each other's throats if he would just_ talk _to me instead of dictating,_ Belle thought in annoyance as she turned away from her building.

Of course, she knew that her own behavior wasn't helping anything, but at her core she was just as stubborn as he was.

"Belle!"

Belle turned and saw Jasmine running across the street to meet her. She raised her brows, wondering if Jasmine _knew,_ wondering if she would be the first of her friends that Belle would have to explain herself to.

In a way, the woman wanted to tell the whole town rather than wait for the story to spread from one person to the next, a great game of _Telephone_ where the story itself would morph into something ridiculous but only the end result would remain: she was now living with Mr. Gold.

When the time came, when she was asked, Belle would tell her friends everything, but until then...

"Hey, Jas."

"Hey yourself, what're you up to?"

Belle gestured to the construction zone further down the block. "I was just getting a look at my building, it's still a mess though."

Jasmine tightened her ponytail, nodding, "Yeah, I've heard it might be longer than they expected before it's finished. Figures, right? At least Granny's Inn is making money off the construction while everyone's staying there. I was just about to run down to the diner for a bite, care to join me?"

Belle shook her head. "No, I just came from there. Ruby's working, try the pie."

Jasmine's dark eyes widened at that and she smiled. "God, if she made her famous apple pie, I'll eat the whole thing! I...hey, why are you still wearing that?"

Belle faltered; Ruby had probably been too tired to notice and she'd hoped that Jasmine wouldn't mention the flashy dress she still wore, but none of Ruby's clothes had ever been chosen for their subtlety. "Uh...the dryer at dad's house is busted. All my clothes are air drying, I didn't have anything else to wear."

Thankfully, Jasmine didn't ask after the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Stuffed inside were all of the clothes that were supposedly drying on a line at her father's house.

Uncomfortable, Belle cleared her throat. "Well, I was just heading home, I need to get ready for work tomorrow morning."

She nodded. "So was I, I'll catch you later."

Belle stepped off, but froze at Jasmine's question. "Belle, isn't your dad's house back that way?" She asked, pointing down the street.

Belle bit her tongue. She could go on in that direction to keep up the pretense, but she didn't want to walk blocks out of her way, and told Jasmine instead, "I'm not staying at my father's tonight."

"Then where?"

"Just with a friend." She was in no mood to tell the whole story now, but she would explain everything to her friends when they began to ask the inevitable slew of questions.

Belle gave her friend a half-hearted wave goodbye and stepped off toward the wealthy neighborhood that housed Mr. Gold.

______________________________

Belle slipped back into the house just as dusk was settling over Storybrooke. The house was dark and quiet, though Mr. Gold's car remained parked in the driveway. She didn't give his whereabouts much thought as she padded toward the front rooms.

The chemical smell of paint was heavy in the air, and Belle was glad to see that her father's vulgar insults had been completely painted over. The ruined couch was gone and so was the dining room table, as were most of the dents in the walls and floors.

The broken glass in the front door still needed to be repaired, and so did several house windows, but with the heavy smell of paint, Belle was glad the rooms could air out overnight. The house was well on it's way to being restored.

This had to do wonders for Mr. Gold's mood. She felt lighter herself, and a real smile made its way across her face.

She wondered if Mr. Gold had already started shopping for new furniture to replace what had been destroyed. Would he expect her to help him pick out new pieces? Stay at his home through the day and wait for the furniture to be delivered, arrange the rooms?

Who could say?

Belle took her bag into the laundry room and tossed all her clothes into one load. It was easy; she had packed light for her stay with her father, only taking the clothes she'd need for work: a handful of cotton blouses, slacks, a skirt and several sets of underwear to get her through the week until laundry day.

Remembering his pajamas, Belle ran upstairs to retrieve them, adding them to the wash as well. Once this load was done and she had something else to wear, Belle would wash Ruby's dress - it had spent hours absorbing her dancing sweat and the smoke in the air at The Rabbit Hole, and now she had taken it on a walk for miles, from one side of Storybrooke to the other.

Belle put the washer on a cold setting and added plenty of detergent. As the load began churning in the machine, Belle took a seat at the kitchen table, feeling awkward to be alone in Mr. Gold's house.

Earlier in the day it had been easier; she'd had her resentment against her father and a mountain of work to keep her company. Now, her part in the house restoration was over.

The rumbling in her stomach decided for her. If Mr. Gold came back home just then, she doubted he would begrudge her anything to eat. Maybe he would even join her and they could finally, really talk.

She chose to just make herself another sandwich for dinner as she waited for the laundry to finish washing. Once it did, she would toss it all in the dryer, and pick out something to wear for work in the morning.

Belle was so tired.

All the stress of the week that had lead up to this awful weekend, the work that morning and her long trek throughout the day had taken its toll. She sighed as she sat at the kitchen table, feeling lonely and sad.

She missed Mr. Gold, and there was no one she could talk to about this.

Well, not yet.

Once the story spread, she would be able to confide in her friends, not only about her new living situation, but the truth of what Mr. Gold had meant to her for the past year.

______________________________

Bright sunlight fell across his closed eyes, warm but unwelcome. Gold shifted on the unfamiliar surface, his suit having twisted itself into a straightjacket during the night. His body ached from yet another restless night.

"Feeling stiff? I'm sure even a couch as nice as that one can't compare to your bed."

Gold turned, slowly, to save his neck the pain, and found Regina leaning on the doorframe. She was looking at him with a bemused expression, one ankle crossed over the other.

He lifted the blanket he'd found over his shoulders. "I suppose I have you to thank for this."

She shrugged and stepped into the room, moving to the low table where he'd left the amendments, petitions and zoning law notices. "None of the staff on duty were brave enough to come in here while you were asleep, they think you'd wake up and eat them alive. I got over that years ago."

"I need to try harder to scare you then, dearie. Thank you for letting me stay over."

Regina shrugged. "It's no problem. I passed your house yesterday, saw the service trucks and a lot of trash on the curb. Are you remodeling?"

Gold groaned softly. So much work had been done the day before and so much more work still remained. "Yes, in the front rooms. It's nice to know you're checking up on me."

"Easy to keep an eye out when you're only a few blocks away, Gold."

"There was a time when I was the one keeping an eye on you. I just have some work that needs to be done around the house, work I can't do myself." He said, gesturing to his leg.

Regina nodded, understanding him perfectly, then turned her eyes back to the table strewn with documents. "You were at it all night, I came down at two and found you nodded off with a tax amendment on your chest."

Gold obscenely cracked his knuckles, delighting when Regina winced at the sound. He then turned his head, cracking his neck and stood, twisting at the waist to crack his back.

The woman looked disturbed at the _crunch_ his skeleton gave with his every twist and turn. "Gold, you need a chiropractor."

"I'm fine." He made a show of popping his elbows and shoulders, unable to stop himself from smiling as she cringed. "You need a new couch."

"Or maybe you should just use one of the guest rooms the next time you stay over." Regina narrowed her eyes, looking him over. Gold wished that she didn't know him so well. "Why _did_ you stay over? You've never been one for staying the night."

The man cleared his throat and finger-combed his hair, smoothed down the front of his shirt in a pointless attempt to look as if he hadn't just spent a restless night on her sofa.  
"I came over to get away from the noise and the smell of paint while the service worked on the house. I didn't plan this, I was just going to sit back to read and then ended up nodding off."

Regina shrugged. "Well, my door is always open to you, you know that."

"I appreciate that, love."

"Breakfast?"

Gold could already smell bacon sizzling in the kitchen, but a look at his watch told him he couldn't spare time for a meal. "No, I need to get back to check on the house, get changed, and get on to open the shop. Thank you, though."

Regina nodded. "Next time, then. I'll walk you out."

Gold stepped into the long hall that lead toward the front door. "Oh, I meant to speak with you. Henry wanted to have one more trip to the cabin before school started but I've run into some unexpected business. I'll take him again, be sure of it, just not yet. I can't leave the house unattended."

With Belle as upset with him as she was, God only knew what she would do to the house if he left her alone for days at a time. She wasn't as destructive as her father; Moe French was a bulldozer, while Belle was a scalpel. She might pull a bolt from the wall and the whole house could come crashing down on him.

The perfect crime.

Gold shook the thought away, knowing he was being ridiculous.

Regina nodded. "I'll let him know, he understands that you're busy. Just don't wait too long, he's been setting little snares in the backyard ever since he came back from your first trip."

"We caught a rabbit at the cabin. I showed him how to dress it, he was fascinated." Gold told her. "You know how boys can be, the dirtier the better. He loved it."

"Mmm. He told me about the rabbit. Lots of blood and guts. I'm sorry I missed that." Regina snarked.

"We also hooked a fish, I remember how much you liked that."

Regina chuckled and nudged him as they walked on.

"Has he caught anything here?" Gold asked, both curious and proud.

"Nothing yet, thank God." Regina laughed. "If he does, you're the first person I'll call."

"Good. I'll let you know when I can bring him out again. Depending on how this business at home goes, I hope it'll be soon."

"All right, I'll catch you later. Enjoy your walk of shame." Regina teased as he left the house.

Gold could not run with his leg the way it was, however he never shied away from a walk about town. It was cooler out now than it would be later on in the day, and cooler still for all the shade cast over the sidewalk by the neighborhood's mature trees.

There were many things in Storybrooke that Gold had little love for, but he genuinely loved his neighborhood. The wealthy area in town was small; tiny, really, compared to the larger neighborhoods of more modest houses.

Houses not unlike the one where Belle was raised, he thought to himself as he turned a corner off the mayoral block. His friend came up in the poorest of the poor neighborhoods, the house she'd shared with her father had been suffering from neglect on the outside facade, and from what he'd seen of the inside, it was suffering more from Moe French and his own brand of carelessness.

When Gold had stormed his way through the front, French had not been alone. There had been two women - middle-aged, wearing too much makeup, clothes far too revealing for their age and body types, if he was in the mood to be mean about it - and another man. The beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays strewn all over the house may have been left over from the poker game Belle had mentioned, or the mess might have come from Moe himself, riding high on the victory of ruining the home of the formidable Mr. Gold.

He'd heard him bragging the moment before he'd broken through the door, sending French's friends to scatter, abandoning the man to Gold's wrath. Gold had let the swing of his cane do the talking for him. He'd not spoken until he'd gained the upper hand and Belle had walked in on them.

Certainly he'd never been angry at Belle, or even more than mildly annoyed when in her presence, so he imagined her shock at seeing him undone. But after bringing her to his house, he'd felt calm enough to voice his offer.

_That damn deal._

Gold made it home and took a moment to stand outside of his house, simply looking at it. Perhaps in his own twisted way, Gold had proposed the deal because he'd thought Belle would be happier in his home.

 _She still might, in time._ He reasoned as he moved to up the driveway and into the kitchen. Yes, she was cross with him now but perhaps his home would be enough to soften her temper.

If he made _his_ home into _her_ home then perhaps...

The man wouldn't delude himself by hoping for more than a return to their friendship; Gold would not let her go, but he would not give up on them so easily, either.

_______________________________

Gold strode in and wasted little time in showering and changing into a fresh suit for the day. As he moved about his bedroom, he listened for any sound of Miss French in the room upstairs.

He could hear nothing, and against his better judgement, Gold approached the room to see if she was still in the house. The door was open and he was reluctant to step inside. The man felt reluctant to enter for a number of reasons, the least of which being to violate Belle's privacy. The woman wasn't there and but for the blanket thrown back over the sheets, there was no sign that she'd ever even set foot in the room.

Wait.

Gold spied a cell phone charger plugged into the outlet nearest the bed. She might have left it in her hurry to flee from him on Sunday. She said she would go see her father, had the man convinced her to stay away from him? Run away to escape his shaded past in Storybrooke, start over somewhere else?

Gold wouldn't put it past French, but Belle? No. Not Belle. Though he had greatly upset her on Saturday, and frustrated her on Sunday, she would come back.

Yes.

She would come back, or he would find her and bring her back.

It was a dark thought, that, but Gold was often a man of dark deeds when his patience was tested. If Belle were to agree to an arrangement and then break her promise...

_No. She gave me her word._

The library, surely she had gone off to the library.

That was good. The woman needed a return to familiar, comforting surroundings. And then, at the end of the workday, she would return to him and find her room a more comforting place.

______________________________

Once he opened the shop, Gold tended to his work and dusted the front, he balanced his ledgers and made a few sales calls, and for the first time in years, he put off collecting the rent in favor of more pressing matters at hand.

Ever the industrious man, Gold slinked off the to back room and flipped open his iPad - the birthday gift from Regina he's had the most fun with - and began to scroll through a few sites for inspiration.

As he did this, Gold made a phone call.

"Glen's Glass, how can we help you?"

"This is Mr. Gold."

"Yes, Mr. Gold! What can we do for you?"

"I was actually calling for a few additions to the house."

"Additions, sir?"

"Yes. My home was vandalized over the weekend."

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry to hear that - did you call the sheriff?" The woman on the other end of the line sounded genuine in her sympathy for him, he was surprised to hear.

"No. I left the sheriff to his issuing of parking tickets and patrol and handled it myself." Gold swiped his fingertips over the screen and went on, "Four house windows and a piece of my front door window need to be replaced. Also, I'm looking to add some color to the place."

Ironic, since his house was already notorious for its daring choice of paint.

Well, Milah had wanted their home to stand out and he hadn't the heart to change it.

Gold described his interest even as he browsed the selections on the screen before him.

"Yes, sir we can certainly do that. And when were you wanting to schedule the install?"

"I want it done today. Before five. I'll pay triple."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line as the bombshell he'd just dropped was absorbed, and then he could hear papers being shuffled and a rapid clicking of keys.

"We can make that happen, I'm dispatching a team from our location right now."

"I trust your company to do a fine job. I would never have invested if I had a doubt."

"Thank you sir!"

"Good lass. Your check is in the mail."

______________________________

At 6:30, and just as Belle had stepped in through the front door, Mr. Gold had reached the last step coming down from the second floor, meeting her. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, eyes assessing.

Gold noticed the plastic grocery bag she held had clothes inside, though she wouldn't need them any longer. He knew she'd been at the library, stocking, reshelving and cataloging and whatever all else occupied a librarian's day, but his pulse quickened guiltily, taken with the sudden thought that she knew what he'd really been up to all day when he was supposed to be tending the shop.

"You came back." He blurted dumbly.

"Yes." Belle shut the door behind her. "I said I would."

"So you did." Gold agreed, taking the final step down to the ground floor. He put both hands on the cane and braced his arms in a V before him. It was a posture that Belle had seen him take before, whenever he was feeling defensive. "And your father, he's...?"

"Still alive, as far as I can tell. I didn't see him yesterday, but a neighbor came into Granny's and mentioned seeing him earlier today, so I know you kept your word." Belle averted her eyes, tighening her hold on the bag, unconsciously fingering the topaz at her ear with her free hand. "Thank you for that."

"Well. A deal's a deal." He said, eyes trained on the fascinating wood patterns of the wall.

"I guess it is." She agreed, clearing her throat. "So I'm guessing you expect dinner about now. Or do you eat later on in the evenings?"

Making dinner for them to share wouldn't be any huge trial for her; the man had a kitchen that screamed for use, and if they both sat down for a meal, then surely they would finally be able to talk.

But dinner was not to be.

"No. I don't expect anything like that from you." Gold put up his hand, waving away this idea she seemed to have that he wanted her as a servant. "The kitchen's open to you, of course. You're welcome to anything you want. But I'm heading out now and it's likely I'll be out until very late. Don't wait up."

Belle frowned at his casual dismissal. "Oh, don't worry, the thought never even crossed my mind."

Gold moved away from the stairs, giving her a way out, so to speak, and Belle took it for the escape it was, passing him.

The woman sighed as she stepped into the guestroom, or, _her_ room for the time being. Mr. Gold had made no indication on how long he expected her to stay, so she assumed that she ought to get comfortable.

In the plastic grocery bag she carried were the clothes she'd been wearing on Saturday, before she and Ruby had changed into beautiful, wild things destined for The Rabbit Hole. The last time she'd worn those clothes, all had been right in the world.

On visiting with Ruby that afternoon, Belle had wanted to tell her everything, but the words just wouldn't come.

She flicked on the light and paused, her eyes immediately drawn to the nightstand beside the bed. It had been bare that morning, but now resting atop it was a star orchid, potted in a lovely ceramic bowl. The woman moved forward and touched the rubbery leaves of the plant, admiring the striking color of the blooms. Bright fuchsia in the center, sweeping into canary yellow and white stripes on the petals. But for the stripes, this plant was the same as the one Mr. Gold had given her during their day in Sunshire.

Hell, he might have even gone to that same vendor for this plant.

Belle smiled at the gorgeous flower, so pleased despite seeing it as the obvious ploy it was. The orchid was another of the man's "peace offerings", she could see that.

She wasn't so naive as to dismiss how things had changed between them, but Belle couldn't stay cross with her friend forever.

 _It does brighten up the room,_ she admitted to herself as she lifted the pot and set it on the window bench. She knew orchids needed indirect sunlight to survive. She knelt beside it and pulled the string to lift the blinds, and she reared backwards out of surprise.

The center window was clear, but the two narrow panels that flanked it had been adorned with gorgeous stained glass inserts.

"Oh, wow!" Belle gasped.

The panels depicted soft pink and cream flowers with varying shades of green taking the space between the blooms. Above the flowers was an expanse of blue, a pale shade that darkened as the color rose up the height of the window, sweeping into a bright royal. The panels were nearly identical, but the panel to her left had a bright orange and yellow sun at the top of the glass, while the panel on the right had a colorful butterfly in the mirrored position.

Belle touched the glass, warmed by the late afternoon sun. _Did he do this for me?_

The obvious answer was yes. Another of his peace offerings? Yes, again.

The orchid was a nice gesture but the stained glass seemed a bit much. He didn't have to go to such a length if he wanted to make amends. The man just had to _talk_ to her and they could move past this, together.

_Maybe he did this just to get me to do the talking._

Excited and determined, Belle went downstairs to find him, but he had already disappeared. Belle shrugged and helped herself to what little he had in the kitchen. He'd told her not to wait up while he was gone, but they couldn't avoid each other for much longer now that they shared a roof.

 _Tomorrow._ Belle decided, her choice firm. _Tomorrow he and I will talk. No more tension, no more suspicion. We'll talk and we'll listen and with any luck, we'll move on from this._

She made herself yet another sandwich, pairing it with an apple, some cookies and a cup of milk. Belle sat at the table and checked a few favored fan sites for updates on her cell. The fanfictions she'd bookmarked hadn't updated with new chapters yet, much to her irritation; the handful of actors she followed on Twitter had nothing insightful to share with the world, though some idiot from reality TV who'd achieved fame by way of a "leaked" sex tape had just uploaded a picture of a salad and received a few thousand likes for the effort.

Belle set her phone aside and went to the laundry room to retrieve her clothes from the dryer, carrying everything upstairs. After settling on an outfit for the next day, she went to the closet to hang her clothes so they would not wrinkle.

"What are-?" Belle furrowed her brows at the sight that met her within the closet. Where there had been nothing before, there were new clothes hanging up and several shoeboxes stacked on the floor.

She stepped inside for a closer look. There were three skirts, five blouses, a wrap dress and two pairs of slacks, all hanging up neatly in a military row. Everything was in her size, each item new from fashion lines Belle had only ever read about in magazines and on fashion blogs.

Kneeling, Belle found three pairs of heels and two pairs of flats. Again, they were brands that Belle had never even thought to buy outside of her daydreams on winning the state lottery.

All this - the orchid, the stained glass, the clothes - was obviously meant for her, one collective effort for her forgiveness. Mr. Gold wanted things between them to be the way they were before the Saturday that had changed everything. Belle had never been given so much, all at once, in so bizarre a situation.

Mr. Gold still meant to keep her, but he wanted her to enjoy the gilded cage.

Belle sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the toes of her cheap shoes. She wasn't one to hold a grudge; hadn't she once told him she thought he was a layered man? This darkness he'd made efforts to hide from her, that was just another layer of what made up Mr. Gold.

_Saturday showed me a truth about him. He'd warned me about it for months, and I refused to listen. I'll listen tomorrow, even if I hate what I hear._

The adult thing to do now would be to abandon her snappish attitude but she wouldn't allow the man to bully her either. She would force his honesty if she had to, and confront some truths of her own.

It was the only way for them to find their way back to each other.

______________________________

As Belle and Mr. Gold argued with themselves over how best to bridge the gap that had opened between them, there was another lively debate taking place in a boothe of Granny's diner.

"Look, I know what I saw." Jacob asserted to the table. "I'm telling you, Gold has French's daughter!"

Carl, an electrictian and his occasional drinking buddy, raised a brow. "The librarian?"

Jacob nodded, "Yeah, it's Bella, right?"

Leroy, one of the miners they hung out with at the end of the workday, spoke up. "Her name's Belle. And Gold told you they had one of those.. _.arrangements?_ " He asked, struggling to find the right word.

He wasn't too close with the woman, but they were friendly enough. The thought of her being pulled into shacking up with Gold unsettled his stomach.

Barnes, an EMT at the hospital, added a packet of sugar to his coffee and quickly stirred. "Never heard of Gold making _that_ kind of deal."

That much was true: Gold was a cunning dealer but his currency had always been money and favors, never women.

Jacob scoffed, "C'mon, man, first time for everything and it doesn't take a genius to figure out how this happened. He's loaded and she's cute. I wouldn't put anything past French since he was caught stealing meds from Whale a couple months ago, remember that? The whole thing must've been his idea."

Barnes nodded, "Yeah, but why would Belle go with Gold to help out that deadbeat?"

"Family ties, I guess. I mean, who knows?" Jacob shrugged. "Probably wouldn't have even come to that if French hadn't broken into Gold's house."

Leroy almost choked on his beer. "French did _what?"_

"Oh yeah, man, see, that's why I was over there the other day. Gold calls up and says he just had some repairs and painting he needs done - no big deal, he's a regular." Jacob shrugged. "He calls us in every once in awhile for roofing and tree trimming, you know, stuff he can't manage because of the leg."

"Interesting how he can scare everyone in town with a bum leg, but he can't run more than five steps." Carl remarked. He had no animosity toward the man himself, but he knew plenty of others who did and so had heard all the rumors that surrounded him.

"Hey, I figure if you have the balls to cross him, you earn the beating." Jacob went on with his story, setting the scene. "Anyway I get there and most of the lower floor is trashed. I mean, the rooms are empty, windows are broken, he's got tons of garbage out on the curb, which, it turned out, wasn't just garbage. It was broken shelves, busted statues, torn up books, ripped up furniture, you name it. You go inside, and there's black graffiti everywhere, says **FUCK OFF** and **DIE,** then there's all these dents in the walls and doors, the floors are gouged to hell - I'm telling you, it looks like Moe went to town with spray paint and a sledgehammer in there."

"Jesus, must have been one hell of a bender to make him that suicidal." Barnes said, breaking the stunned silence of their table.

Jacob nodded. "Oh, you know it, not since he trashed the mayor's yard, remember that? But Gold was calm as anything while we're walking through and he's showing me all the damage. Then that girl, Belle, she comes out of the kitchen and mentioned a few chores she did while he was gone, then goes on saying she's going to fix him some tea." Off the incredulous looks of his friends, Jacob went on, "I swear Gold planned that! He probably wanted to spread the word, let everyone know what he got out of a deal gone wrong with French. He got himself a cute little Stepford wife."

Carl thought on that. Really he only knew Belle in passing, when he'd been hired by the city to handle the wiring during the library and community center building's renovation. But she had been nice to him every time their paths had crossed. "Did Gold say anything about her?"

Jacob shook his head, thinking back to Sunday afternoon. "Not at first. He went into the kitchen with her for a little while and then came out to go over the repairs with me. Gold said she was going to stay on and work off her father's debt by keeping house, help him pick out some new furniture for the front rooms since they're empty now."

The men raised their brows - in a way it made sense that Gold would make such an agreement; he would get a woman's touch around his house and terrify anyone else who thought to cross him, the implicit threat clear for all to see.

"How'd she look?" Carl asked. "I mean, did she look all right?"

"Mmm, she looked fine to me." Jacob said, reflecting on the dress Belle had been wearing. Off the other men's looks, he went on to say, "Er, what I mean is, she didn't look like Gold had been slapping her around or anything like that. Gold's a lot of things, but I don't think he'd take anything that far. Not with a woman, anyway."

"You never can tell with that slippery bastard, but Gold's not the problem if French is the one who offered up his kid to save himself a beating." Leroy said gruffly.

"I wouldn't say that French saved himself from anything, have you seen him lately? He looks like he's been in one hell of a fight. My guess is that Gold paid him a visit after he trashed the house, then maybe French went and offered her up on a silver platter to save his skin. I'm not saying it's right, but if she went along with it, then Gold can't be treating her too bad, right? Just proves the guy is human after all."

Leroy had to admit there was merit to Jacob's take on the situation as he was the only one to have seen Belle in Gold's house. If Belle was willing to stay with Gold to settle things between that man and her father, then that was fine, but he couldn't help but to say, "Gold doesn't need to hit someone to hurt them, especially a woman, you know what I mean?"

Jacob nodded and sipped his beer. "Yeah, I know what you mean, but if that's the way Gold wants to deal with French, then I'll just be happy that I can handle my business so it's not me he's got running around in a short skirt, fetching him drinks in front of company."

The men, all of them, could raise a glass in agreement to that.


	19. Coming Back

Tuesday dawned over Storybrooke and Belle found herself alone in Mr. Gold's house once again. She didn't know if he'd returned to the house after she'd gone to bed and already left for the day or if he had stayed out all night and not returned.

He hadn't said where he was going when they'd had their brief exchange at the stairs, but Belle had an idea.

The woman didn't give too much thought to where he was now, so long as he came back to the house after the shop closed for the day. As she blow-dried her hair, she made plans for them that evening, different ideas flitting through her mind, but it all hinged on Mr. Gold actually _being there._

Belle had his phone number, it was stored in her cell from months past, when he'd asked that she call him as soon as a certain book came in that he'd needed; it'd been some piece from the early Renaissance period he'd been tasked to restore, the book being the only guidance on the artist's original painting technique.

Belle could text him in the afternoon, she supposed. A way to test the waters between them without the awkwardness of a phone call.

The woman looked herself over in the mirror, satisfied with her appearance for the day in her own blouse and skirt. She wasn't wearing any of the clothes that Mr. Gold had bought for her, she needed to speak with him first.

Belle collected her purse, then left the house through the back gate as if she'd done it a hundred times. She enjoyed the walk through his neighborhood. The beautiful houses and yards with flowers and mature trees made for lovely scenery as she passed through and Belle wondered how long it would take before his neighbors took notice of her staying with him.

It wouldn't be much longer before her friends knew, and she was sure that Ruby would be the first to know since the diner was a central hub for the town. Everyone went there, from the mayor to the men who worked the docks.

As it was, no one that she crossed paths with in town made any comments or gave her any looks to suggest that they knew where she'd been staying the past several nights.

As Belle started her day at the library, she kept a close eye on her cell, sure that she would receive a text at any minute. _Maybe not a text,_ she thought in amusement.

No, her circle of friends would storm through the library doors and demand - in a whisper - if what they'd heard was true, that she had agreed to stay with Mr. Gold to keep him from killing her father.

It was a fun thought, but one that never came to be.

The library stayed quiet, as did her cell.

The day wore on for Belle, and she didn't leave for lunch, not up to visiting the diner in case the word got out and Ruby decided to corner her for answers. She wasn't hungry anyway; stress had a way to kill her appetite better than any diet plan.

So, she restocked, reshelved, cleaned, greeted the library's patrons and to all eyes, it seemed just another average Tuesday.

At about 3, Belle chanced a text to Mr. Gold.

**B: Let's have dinner**

Belle wondered if he would catch the _Sherlock_ reference. Being from the UK, he'd likely be a fan of the show. As for her, she might have a secreted dark side but she was no Irene Adler who could command any man on sight.

She was only Belle French, and the best she could do is try to coaxing one man into a meal.

_The Man._

Mrs. Mullins caught her attention, gesturing to a cart that needed to be replaced, so Belle pocketed her cell and got back to work. She was quick in reshelving the books - five to Adult Fiction, three to Reference, ten to Children's Non-Fiction, four DVDs and two magazines.

It was mundane work, allowing Belle's mind to drift over everything that had gone on over the weekend, and all that they had been before the day that changed everything. They'd been on dates, though they'd never called them so. The day spent in Sunshire immediately leapt to mind; while it hadn't been claimed as a date, Belle would call it the best date she'd ever been on since she'd entered the dating game with Shane at sixteen.

The man had bought her breakfast at Granny's a few times, gifted her jewelry over the holidays, and kept her warm in her apartment during April's blackout.

They'd been dating for months already without claiming one another. It had been slow going between them, but if all this hadn't happened, they might have been...but her idiot of a father had had to break into his house and now Belle was playing the part of Mr. Gold's coerced live-in mistress.

_What a mess._

She didn't expect a response to her text, Mr. Gold might not even know-

_ping-ping_

Belle ignored the stern look from Mrs. Mullins and checked her cell. This was more important, but she silenced her text alert and set it to vibrate - a compromise to keep the peace.

**G: Where would you like to go?**

Belle raised a brow, surprised at his assumption that she would want to dine out.

She didn't want to go anywhere. She wanted things resolved - _tonight._

Belle knew the way to get him alone, to draw him in to her, entice him where they would be uninterrupted by shop customers, or her friends or the mayor or anything else. She couldn't force him to speak with her, but it wouldn't come to that if they were left alone.

**B: Nowhere. I'll make dinner tonight.**

She thought for a moment and texted again.

**B: Do you have any allergies?**

His response was quicker this time.

**G: Shellfish.**

**B: Ok, lobster it is ;)**

Belle hoped he would take her last line as the joke it was, the first step back to where they had been before her father had crashed in on the piece of their lives that belonged to each other.

The man didn't respond, but Belle still thought of their brief text exchange as progress. She could sometimes be described as defiantly optimistic, and this was one of those times.

Mr. Gold had agreed to dinner. It was a start.

And a start was all they needed to end this.

______________________________

Belle closed the library an hour early, sure she would get away with it because there was no such thing as a literary emergency, and went off to the grocery store for the ingredients she needed.

It was her mother's recipe, one of the few good memories Belle kept of the woman.

There were few occasions when Belle would make a full meal; when she cooked for herself the food was simple, but given what was at stake for her tonight, she put all her skill into the food.

If the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, then Belle would find her way back to Mr. Gold by way of her renown baked ziti.

She'd made it for Shane after the death of his father, for Ariel after an awful breakup, and for Ashley's birthday dinner. It was comfort food, easy to prepare, and there wasn't anyone in town who hadn't loved it at first bite.

As she cut onions and stewed tomatoes for the rich sauce, Belle tried to reign in her hopes for the night. She still loved him, her feelings for the man couldn't change after glimpsing his darker side, especially as he'd warned her for months. She'd grown to love Mr. Gold without truly knowing him, but Belle would fight for that to change.

She was determined to learn him all over again, starting tonight.

Belle froze when she heard the front door open, and that rhythmic _tap_ approaching the kitchen. He was early. She'd intended to have it all ready before he came back, but nothing for it now.

Mr. Gold came to stand in the doorway, eyes roaming the space before coming to rest on her.

"I didn't know what you were making, but I brought garlic bread." He raised the bag in his left hand. "Will it go well with...?"

"I'm making ziti, so yes, garlic bread is perfect." She assured him as she took it from his hands.

Belle was all too aware of his eyes on her as she set the slices onto a plate, arranging the pieces to overlap each other, the end result resembling buttery daisy petals of bread.

"May I help you with anything?" He asked carefully.

Just days ago, Gold had held this as a chief fantasy; Belle in his kitchen, the two of them working together to prepare a meal, and making love soon after. That wasn't going to happen now, he knew, but perhaps the first part of his fantasy wasn't so far out of reach. Belle had invited him to this meal, a peace offering all her own.

But the woman wanted to be the perfect hostess this night, and that didn't include enlisting the guest of honor for help in making his own dinner.

"That's all right, Mr. Gold, I have everything under control." Just then Belle thought of something - this would be a difficult discussion between them, perhaps they could both use a glass of liquid courage. "Do you have any wine to go with this?"

"Not anymore." He said blandly.

Belle's jaw tensed at the reminder.

Right.

Her father had smashed his liquor including, Belle had seen, a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label - a drink she had never tasted and for good reason, as a single bottle of it could cost as much as $200.

The woman could feel embarrassed heat bloom in her cheeks at this _faux pas_ but she refused to let it derail their evening. "Oh, right...um, do you drink milk with dinner?"

"Yes." He nodded and gave her a small, reassuring smile. "It's not all tea for me, Miss French."

"Of course." She smiled back to him and checked the time on the oven. "It's almost ready. I'll just set the table."

"I can help with that."

Belle shooed him back from the kitched island, "No, no, you can sit down. Your mail is there."

Doing as she told him, the man said nothing, but kept his eyes on her as he reviewed his mail at the table. A few bills to the house and the shop, junk mail and fliers, nothing of any importance.

Belle made quick work of setting the table with plates, glasses of milk and silverware, the garlic bread and the ziti itself. She'd made a large meal of it; noodles, sauce, plenty of seasoned sausage and so hot out of the oven the melted mozzarrella was still bubbling.

Belle took his plate, serving him first and then herself. They didn't speak or say grace, they simply began to eat in silence.

Gold watched her eat before taking a bite, and didn't restrain the appreciative _hum_ from escaping his throat. He so loved Italian, and he'd said before that she had talent in the kitchen. Belle smiled in thanks but otherwise stayed quiet.

The sipping of cold milk and the scraping of forks against their plates were the only sounds to cross the table for several minutes.

Gold was focused on the meal, eating slowly, and his eyes only flickered to her without lingering. He was being so polite, so quiet, it was clear that he was waiting; waiting for her to say something about their situation, the very reason she was in his house, making him dinner tonight.

The woman could sense that he wouldn't be the one to speak of it first, so it fell to her.

Hoping to spark a conversation, Belle drew a breath and began her chatter, as he'd always teasingly called it.

First, she told him of her day at the library, the patrons who'd visited, a few books she'd had to order from libraries in larger cities with more diverse literary circulation, and then a white lie of how she'd accidentally locked herself in the storage cage in the basement and had had to call Mrs. Mullins at the circulation desk to come down and let her out. She made up that story in the hopes of making him laugh, but he barely reacted at all.

All of this chatter only earned her a simple "Hmm." from the man, and a quirk of his lips.

Belle tried again as he ate on, even serving himself a second, smaller helping of the ziti. There was an unspoken compliment in that, and it fed her hope.

She told him of when she'd visited Ruby the day before to retrieve her clothes, how Ruby had had a hard time at the diner when she'd slipped in the kitchen and dropped three glasses.

Her only reward for that was, "I hope she's more careful going forward."

Belle bit her tongue, ready to reach across the table and _shake_ him.

She spoke then, of the other people she'd seen at the diner on Monday. Some were Mr. Gold's better-behaved clients, while others were due a visit from him any day now. In this he engaged with her a bit more, however he was holding back, hiding behind that aloof facade.

Glancing down, Belle noticed the nervous way his fingers tore at his napkin. _Ah._

Just behind his indifference, Gold was anxiously waiting for her true motive behind this dinner to reveal itself; he knew she would ask to leave him, any minute now her chatter would lead into the plea.

Gold could refuse her nothing save her freedom. If he allowed her to leave, he feared he would never see her again and that he could not bear.

All too soon, the meal was complete. Belle asked after his honest opinion of the dish - did he like the sausage? Had she used too much cheese? - and Mr. Gold assured her it had been delicious and even told her that he planned to take some for lunch the next day. Overriding her protests, he assisted her in clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen, all politeness and nothing true.

Belle was trying to draw him in, but behind her bright chatter, her patience was wearing thin with the man. Likewise, Gold could sense that the time was drawing near, that _the plea_ was just on the tip of her tongue.

_Mr. Gold, please let me go._

He wouldn't do it.

He couldn't.

She would hate him for it, he knew, but he would keep her and keep trying to make his house feel like home to her. In time, she would forget that she'd ever even wanted to leave.

Belle rinsed their plates in the sink and slipped them into the dishwasher while he cleared the kitchen island. Her chatter continued, almost desperate now to fill the silence between them.

"The library will be busy tomorrow because it's Workshop Wednesday, when we work with the rec center to provide reference material to match their projects. They're working on piñatas this week, so we set out books about Mexican culture, paper mâché crafts, you name it." Belle rinsed her hands and dried them on a dish towel. "After tomorrow I think it may slow down, but that's fine because it gives me plenty of time to prepare for the book clubs and Mary-Margaret's new readers coming in next Monday."

Belle looked around the kitchen, searching for something, anything, to draw out their time together but she found the space to be clean. Time was running out - she had to say something.

"Ah, it's always good to be prepared." Gold said after he'd replaced the last few things in the pantry, his eyes cast down to the handle of his cane.

Belle furrowed her brows at his answer. These short responses were all she'd been able to coax from him, and the woman had grown tired of doing all the talking.

He owed her more than this! He owed her the truth! He owed her something real!

She wanted her friend back; even the darkness he'd shown that night was better than this empty, polite shell of the man.

"I could bring you something, if you wanted." Belle told him. "A new mystery, or maybe the Titian art edition? We just received it, maybe you'll find out something on that new piece you have in." She suggested, trying to remind him of how they'd first bonded over books.

It'd been her last-ditch effort.

No luck there, as Mr. Gold simply shrugged. It was his hope that she'd lost her nerve and wouldn't ask to leave after all. "That will not be necessary. Good night, Miss French."

Belle watched as he turned, heading toward his bedroom, leaving her to face another night of silence.

_Enough!_

"Wait."

Gold paused, his back to her. She saw his grip tighten on the cane before he turned around to face her. "Was there something else?"

The question was almost a challenge.

Belle looked at him for a long moment, just looking at him. The guarded look in his eyes, his impeccable charcoal suit, the tension in his posture.

She wasn't afraid. He had never been the sniping landlord, the clever pawnbroker or the unflappable lead councilman to her. He'd only ever been a friend. She knew he was hurting.

"I miss you, Mr. Gold."

There it was. As simple and honest a declaration as Belle could ever make.

Mr. Gold's cool expression faltered, and he took a step toward her. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard what I said." Belle moved closer, put her hand over his on the cane. "We've been living together for days now but we've become strangers. I can't take it anymore! I hate this! Please come back, Mr. Gold."

At the sight of her distress, and knowing that he alone was to blame, something _broke_ inside the man. There was no running from it, no denying it. "Belle...I miss you too."

The woman shook her head, tears flooding her eyes with the hope that he was returning to her. She stepped to him and twined her arms about his waist, pressing her cheek to his suited shoulder, so painfully relieved when she felt his arm close over her back to return the embrace.

She fought against the tightness in her throat, refusing to cry now. The time for tears was over. He was solid, he was here.

"I'm sorry," she heard him murmur, tightening his hold on her. "I am, I'm sorry."

Belle shook her head, pulling back so she could face him. "I forgave you, I forgave everything when I saw what my father did to your house. Everything that happened...it was all down to him."

Gold couldn't stop himself; he moved his hand from her waist, lifting his fingertips to trace the soft line of her jaw. "No. He only broke in to steal things, he could have taken the whole house and I would have just called the sheriff, but he had to take..." Here Gold hesitated, refusing to confide the thing held so precious to him. "Nevermind, I took it back. It's safe now. But you should hate me for what I've done."

Mr. Gold had brought her to his house, posed the agreement that twisted her into a pawn in his game of illusion with the whole of Storybrooke. This was all true.

And yet...

"Mr. Gold, I don't hate you. I never hated you for what happened." Belle took a breath, going on. "It was upsetting, though. To see you like that, and when you said you wanted me to stay, I couldn't help but think-"

Gold pulled back from her at the mention of her suspicion, shamed, but Belle wouldn't allow him to pull away fully. She needed him close, she wanted him to hold her again.

"-but I know you won't hurt me. I haven't known you as well as I'd thought, but I know I'm safe here." She rested her hands over him, smoothing the front of his jacket.

Relief was washing over Gold, and he put his hands over hers on his chest. Everything in him longed to kiss her; the man dipped his head, pressing his forehead to hers instead, nuzzling her.

God, how he wanted this, he wanted to believe she could be his, that she wasn't staying with him just to protect her father, that she wanted...that she...

He had already hurt her as his friend. What damage would he do to this woman if they ever became more?

Gold pulled from her embrace, taking one of her hands into his. "Yes, you are safe here. Of course you are. But I've changed things. You've seen too much."

"We can start over." Belle suggested. "Try to make it like it was."

Gold shook his head, voice heavy in his confession. "No. It's all ruined now, it's just too early for you to see that. Things were fine for months, chatting at the library, your visits to the shop. Our late-night board games." He allowed himself a small smile, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb in fond remembrance. "But then your father broke in and I couldn't let it go unanswered. Not after what he stole from me. I've tried to tell you, I am everything they say I am. I had hoped to keep you at a distance so you wouldn't see it - that's why I agreed to keep everything a secret and asked you to go in the back room so often. It became less about avoiding gossip and more about having you to myself...I shouldn't have let things go on like that, but I couldn't help it. I just wanted a friend."

"You are my friend." Belle told him, daring to lift her free hand and touch his hair. She'd never touched him in such a way before, but she couldn't stop her hand from stroking his hair, almost petting the man.

At that, Gold barked out a bitter laugh. "Oh, no. I'm not your friend, I'm your jailer. You are the sharpest woman I know. You know what they'll be saying and you know the idea I wanted to project to the town. I was so angry at the time. I still am. I wasn't thinking about the effect it would have on you. I just wanted my way."

Belle shook her head and moved to hug him again. They just stood, holding each other in the dim light of his kitchen.

"I don't care what other people say." Belle told him softly. "Do you hear me? I don't care what story the rumor mill puts out. People would talk no matter what happened between us, but they don't matter. You and I, we know the truth."

He was drawn in by her eyes. They were brighter now for her tears.

"How can you accept that?"

"As twisted as that first night was, I need you to know that I never hated you." Her hand was in his hair again. Gold fought the urge to purr for her touch. "I was upset because I'd never seen you like that, it was like you became a different man...but when we came back here and I saw what my father had done...I understand. I do, I understand. I would say that I forgive you, but there's nothing to forgive."

Having her here, hearing her say such things, Gold felt floored. A thousand thoughts crossed his mind, but only one was spoken. "You can't be Moe French's daughter."

At that, Belle snorted a quick laugh. "There has been some debate about that, actually. I'm hoping to be found out as someone else's issue, at least then I could finally cut ties."

Gold scowled, his grip tightening on her waist. "Your father deserved worse than what I did for what he's done to you-"

"Me?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, seeing that Gold _knew._ Somehow, he'd gained her secrets - her father's downward spiral that had driven away her mother and trapped her in his debts.

Gold moved his hand to stroke her cheek, "I...I know that he has been unkind to you in the past. That may well have been part of the reason I attacked him."

"I should thank you for that, then." Belle said, leaning into his touch for a moment before stepping back from him, needing distance. She turned away, looking out the window to his dark garden as she spoke. "My father has become...different in the years since my mother left us. We both have. I can't blame her for leaving, I just wish she had taken me with her. I guess I'll never know why she left me behind."

Gold approached her, and reached to stroke his hand across the narrow expanse of her back. "She never should have done. You deserve so much more from life than what you've been given."

Belle was quiet at that, before turning back around to look at him for several moments. "Life has given me plenty of good things, Mr. Gold, so I can't ask for much more. I don't resent you."

"Hmm?"

"For bringing me here, asking that I stay. This is worlds better than staying with that man. I have a friend here."

"Always, yes."

Belle nudged his shoulder. "Admit it, you orchestrated this whole plot with my father just so you could have me cook for you."

That she was teasing him was a form of forgiveness in itself. He returned her clever smile as best he could, relief sweeping over him. "Was I that obvious?"

"No, but your bare kitchen was." Belle looked him up and down. "I aim to put some meat on your bones, Mr. Gold."

"Ah. I suppose I'll keep you for a bit longer, then."

______________________________

Belle went to bed that night feeling almost weightless in her relief. Mr. Gold wasn't so lost to her as she'd feared. He'd apologized, he'd shown her honesty in his confession and remorse.

He hadn't mentioned if she could leave, but as it was, her things were here and it was already late. She would stay the night once more, and speak to him again after they'd finished their work and returned here tomorrow.

Belle looked into the closet, at the clothes he'd bought her. They were all lovely, the more sophisticated brands and silhouettes a clear step up from the clothing she already wore. That had been his intent, of course, to dress her in such a way as to compliment him, to show what she wore reflected the man at her back.

 _It's a shame I can't keep them,_ she thought as she looked over the chic dress he'd chosen for her. Belle would thank him for the gifts, but they needed to speak about them as well. They were peace offerings given in a war that had never been.

But the pajamas she'd stolen from him on Friday, _those_ she would keep.

Smiling to herself, Belle buttoned his pajama top, wearing only her panties underneath as it was still summer and her room was pleasantly warm.

Before settling in for the night, Belle tried on one of the pairs of heels that had been left for her. Slipping the black pumps onto her feet, Belle sighed. She couldn't keep them, but there was no harm in walking about the room, surely.

Besides, when would she ever again have the chance to walk in the shoes with the famous red soles?

She looked at herself in the mirror, her legs looking longer atop the Louboutin pedestals, wearing Mr. Gold'd pajama top like a loose minidress, the hem just barely brushing the top of her thighs. Happy once again, she struck a few poses in the mirror, strutting in the heels like a model on the catwalk, blowing kisses at herself.

The woman was being silly and wistful, she knew, so Belle took off the shoes and boxed them back up in the closet before she could talk herself out of giving them back.

They'd been gifts she hadn't earned, couture wasted on someone like her, and Mr. Gold had only given them to her as a way to extend her role in his illusion.

She would not wear any of it.

_______________________________

When she woke, Belle was happy to start her day. Unlike the past several mornings, she didn't feel smothered by dread and anxiety at the prospect of seeing Mr. Gold when she descended the stairs. She felt a return to her usual bright self as she dressed and collected her purse; she wanted to see him before she left, but she'd sensed the house was empty as soon as she'd stepped out of her room.

Mr. Gold had already left for the shop, his car was gone from the driveway.

Belle wasn't too bothered by this, she would speak with him once her shift was over.

Slipping out the back entrance of the house, she walked her way to the library.

Wednesday was thankfully busy as she'd predicted in her chatter the night before. People were in and out of the library all day, letting the hours fly by with hardly a thought to the time.

When the rush of people lulled, and Belle was charged with restocking the shelves, she thought of Mr. Gold's hands on her, the way he'd held her, the way his fingertips had traced her jaw.

They'd touched each other last night more than they had in all the time they'd known each other, but it had been meant for comfort, not lust.

No, the only lust he'd ever touched her with had been that afternoon in his shop, trapped before the mirror and chained with the jewels of Axiothea.

Since then, Mr. Gold had kissed her hands and nothing else.

Belle knew the illusion he wanted to project to Storybrooke with her staying in his house, but she wanted to turn the tables on the man and create a happier truth for them within the walls of his home.

Perhaps the next time they hugged, she would gain the courage to rise on her toes and kiss him, spear her fingers into his hair and keep him in place, maybe even use her grip in his hair to pull him into his bedroom and down onto her atop his bed...

Belle shook off the thought and returned to the circulation desk, her cheeks on fire.

She avoided the diner, as she'd brought leftover ziti with her for lunch, and she still wasn't sure to what extent the gossip mill was rolling with the situation between her and Mr. Gold.

The story may not have spread too far, as Ruby hadn't come to her about it. Of all her friends, Ruby wouldn't hesitate to demand answers, no matter how delicate the subject.

And despite their talk the night before, Belle knew that things were still delicate between them. It would take more work to build from the connection they had and become something...more.

Belle was honest enough with herself that she still wanted him but she wanted the real man, if he would allow it.

What would it be like, going forward from this?

Her, soon to be Storybrooke's sole librarian.

Him, still going about being Mr. Gold to the town.

And them, living together - for all appearances, she was his live-in comfort prize and Belle knew there may be some repercussions to that, but what could anyone do to her when it became known she was under his protection?

Now, _that_ was a thought.

With Storybrooke thinking she was Mr. Gold's woman, life would be different for Belle.

For better or worse, that remained to be seen.

______________________________

That evening, Belle came in through the front door and was hit with the most intriguing scent. She hung her purse and work blazer on the bannister, approaching the kitchen.

Mr. Gold was at the stove, scraping chives off a cutting board and into a large boiling pot. He'd shed his suit jacket and tie; the sleeves of his dark workshirt were rolled up past the elbow, revealing burn scars on his left forearm.

Her tongue itched to ask after his injuries, her lips ached to kiss away the pain of his past.

The man looked up and greeted her with a small smile once he saw she was there. "Miss French."

_Ah, so we're back to Miss French, but we never moved on from Mr. Gold._

She chose not to comment on it. "What're you making?"

"Partan Bree." He went on, "It's a bisque. Something we ate at home. You cooked last night, I thought to return the favor."

Belle took a seat on one of the barstools to watch him stir the pot and he was quick to ladle her a bowl, pairing it with a buttery bread roll on a saucer. "Here, try this."

She took a spoonful and blew to cool it. Taking it between her lips, Belle tasted the sweetness of crab meat and the soup held a creamy texture she liked.

"Wow, this is great!"

"Thank you. I wasn't sure you'd like the crab."

"Wait - I thought you had a shellfish allergy." She said, thinking of his text the day before.

"No, I only wanted to see if you'd make good on your promise to poison me." He quirked his lips. "The only thing to happen when I eat lobster is that I don't know when to stop."

"I've only had it a few times, myself." Belle confessed. They might live in the lobster state, but hardshells were still expensive.

"It wasn't all haggis and tatties at home. If it could swim, it would find its way to our table."

Belle thought on what she knew of his past, which was very little. "You've never told me where home was for you before you came here."

"I thought my accent might have been clue enough." He said with a peaked brow.

"No, everyone knows you're Scottish, but no one knows anything more than that. Where in Scotland are you from?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Maybe I want to get to know you better."

"I think you might already know me too well." He told her, his eyes regretful.

Belle refused to be put off. "Please, Mr. Gold."

"All right." He only seemed to relent, but Belle saw his expression shift from guarded to outwardly sly. It was a glimpse of him the way he'd been before, before all this had happened. "I'll tell you, if you answer one of my questions first."

Ah, their game of _quid pro quo._ Belle had missed this.

"Fire away." She said, smiling.

Gold glanced down to the counter between them, wiped his hands on a dish towel, then looked back to her. "Why haven't you worn any of the clothes upstairs?"

He did not want to upset her, but he was curious. Perhaps he'd offended her with his gifts. Perhaps she just didn't care for his choices.

The smile fell from her face, sinking the playful mood of moments ago "Oh. I just..."

"You don't like them."

"No, it's not that." She assured him. "You've actually got quite the eye for style, Mr. Gold."

He smiled at her flattery, puffing his chest. "Well, my suits have become the stuff of legend."

That much was true, he was one of the few men left in Storybrooke who made the effort to dress for his business.

"You didn't pick out a suit for me."

"I wouldn't think to hide your shape under so many layers." He said, eying her.

Belle blushed at that, a part of her thrilling at the return of his flirting, but the other part of her, the more logical part, warned her not to let him distract her.

"Well, suits or not, the clothes you chose for me...I can't accept them."

"Why?"

Answering why would be difficult. On the one hand, Belle didn't want to offend him, not now when they were trying to find their way back to each other, but she would not be swayed on this.

"If I wear what you bought me...it'll look like..." Belle struggled to find the right words. "Mr. Gold, I don't want to play my part here too well."

Gold tilted his head in a silent bid for her to continue.

Belle set her spoon aside, focusing on him. "I've agreed to stay, to make it look like I'm... _yours._ But I won't look like I'm losing myself while I do it."

"I see."

"Do you? I know the clothes were your way to prove to everyone that you had me, _owned me,_ but I don't want to take things that far. There's no need to make a big show of this. It should be enough that you have me here."

Gold felt his chest constrict painfully; yes, he had been bastard enough to try parading her before the town in the best his money could buy, to flaunt that he had taken her away from her father and given her a new world of opportunity. That she would wear his wealth would have served as a constant reminder of that, both to Belle and to anyone who saw her.

"You're right. I did want to show you about in that way." Gold tightened his hold on the cane. "I also wanted to make amends for all that happened over the weekend."

"You shouldn't have thought you could buy my forgiveness." She said softly.

That Belle had already forgiven him everything by the time the clothes had reached her closet wasn't important. It was the principle of the thing; she would not be bought by him or any man.

"I wasn't trying to buy your forgiveness. I knew we'd eventually discuss this." He said, gesturing between them. "I thought a few presents might make it easier."

Gold thought he heard her mutter "Men." under her breath, but she shrugged and went on, "Gifts or no gifts, I'm glad that we were able to talk last night. It won't be the same as it was, but I don't know if that's the worst thing to come of this."

"How do you mean?"

"We can try to know each other even better now. I know we'll be closer for it."

Gold quirked his lips at her. "Always so hopeful."

"When you find something worth fighting for, you never give up."

"Even with what they'll say?" He asked.

"I'm not afraid of that. I've agreed to play along, let the town think what they want, but I won't wear the clothes. But I meant to tell you, the orchid is beautiful. The first thing I thought of when I saw it was our day in Sunshire. Thank you for that." Belle reached across the counter to touch his hand. He rolled his hand beneath hers, softly lacing their fingers. "And that stained glass in the window, it's gorgeous."

"Well. I remember you saying you like it, I only thought to give your space a bit of color." He shrugged, trying to dismiss it.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold. You didn't have to do it, any of it. You just had to talk to me. It would have saved you some money." She joked.

"I'll keep that in mind for future reference, as I'm sure to displease you again while I have you here." He gave her a wry smile and released her hand, turning to tend to the meal. "I wouldn't have demanded that you wear the clothes, but I can't take them back. Do what you want with them. Who knows, you might change your mind."

Belle gave him a small, uncertain smile, nodding as Gold ladled himself a bowl. She would let the matter rest. The man stood across the counter from her, eating quietly. For a time, they ate together in a calm silence.

"Miss French?"

She looked up at him.

"I was born in Maryhill, Glasgow."

It was a small thing, this piece of his history, and the woman was happy to have it.

"When did you come to America?"

"It's your turn to answer a question."

"All right, fine. Did you want to know where I was born? Just a small town outside of Brisbane that I can't remember the name of now, and we came to America just before I turned ten." Belle dipped her roll in the bisque. "I'm like you, I didn't lose my accent after coming here. Your turn."

"All right." He nodded. "I came here when I was in my mid-twenties."

"Alone?"

"Hmm?"

"Were you already married and you came here together or was your wife American?" Belle asked. She was curious about his life before he was Mr. Gold as Storybrooke knew him, and a marriage had to have played a large part in it.

But the walls surrounding Gold's private life were as high as they were thick.

"Pass." He said flatly.

"You can't pass!"

"It's my game. Pass."

Belle shook her head. "We made this game together, you don't make the rules."

"I do when the game is played in my house. Pass."

"I can't beat that logic." Belle relented. She was strong, but she couldn't bring down Gold's walls on the first day of this new stage in their friendship. "Fine."

"The pass extends to any and all questions you have about my wife. A man has to have some secrets."

 _"Some_ secrets? I've known you for over a year and I don't know a thing about you!" Belle groused. She knew him in his humor and moods, but the hard facts of the man - his first name, for instance - were few and far between.

Gold was not moved. "Not true. You might know me better than anyone in town."

"That's not saying much, almost everything about you is still a mystery."

"Good. It means I've maintained my position." He said lightly.

She shrugged, chuckling. "You're all business, aren't you?"

At that, Gold thought on his answer. He could give her something, some reassurance that he wasn't always the remote man she saw before her now.

"I wasn't always." His jaw tensed. "Certain circumstances forced that to change, and then business became my primary focus."

"What happened to make you change?"

"Pass." He smirked. "Another bowl?"

Knowing she's gotten as far as she could with Mr. Gold for the night, Belle handed him her empty bowl to accept another taste of his homeland.


	20. Troubling Texts

After clearing the kitchen of their dinner, both Belle and Mr. Gold retreated to their respective sides of the house; Gold to the study next to his bedroom, while Belle slipped upstairs. It wasn't too late, but they were both done in for the night.

As they'd put away the leftover food and loaded the dishwasher, their movements in an easy sync, Belle had told him all about her day at the library and he had returned with his experiences at the shop; between the two of them, Belle's place of business was livelier, but she was still interested in anything having to do with his work. News of an incoming restoration piece - a vase from the reign of King Louis V - was met with her rapt attention.

The man was pleased that they were regaining each other so easily after the changes that had occurred between them; where he'd feared Belle's hatred, she was accepting this arrangement very well.

All the same, he was treading near the woman with extreme care lest he upset her again.

After saying good night, Gold watched her disappear up the stairs and then moved into his study.

It had been by lucky chance that Moe had not ventured into this room.

As Gold didn't spend much time upstairs, the lower floor of the house was his domain. The study held the things most important to him, items the man truly held dear.

Gold looked to the bookshelves on the left wall, to a space that now stood empty.

What Moe had taken from him had been moved from his study - Gold had moved it into the living room to see how it might look centered on the mantle.

 _Strange luck all around._ He thought.

Had he kept said item secured in the study, where it had been held for years, then so much of this - his attack on Moe, bringing Belle to his house, posing his deal - would never have happened.

He wasn't sure what to make of their situation, now.

On the one hand, Gold would take it all back. He'd never wanted to expose his darker side to Belle, upend things between them in such a way.

However his friendship with the woman was mending, changing. Already he was comfortable with her in his home, and Belle claimed to favor his house in return. In the past two evenings, they'd become positively domestic, making dinner for each other and taking up their game of questions.

In the study, Gold could not hear her footsteps above him as he could in his bedroom, but the man was not worried over her now. He didn't fear that she would run away back to her father. She had already left his home several times between the weekend and today, returning each time.

Gold could trust that Belle would stay.

Their talk the night before had greatly eased the tension between them, and their light game had brought back some of that warmth he'd found such a comfort since engaging with her as a friend.

So Belle refused to wear his gifts, that was fine. The money spent and the time sacrificed in selecting each item for the woman was negligible if it meant she could forgive his beastly temper and the irrational demand that had brought her to stay in his house.

The man sighed lightly as he moved to sit behind the desk.

With small steps and careful words, they were finding their way back to each other. Belle had even suggested that this whole ordeal might bring them closer.

Closer to what?

The man had known that they would eventually address the night that had changed everything. What he had not expected was for Belle to take control of things and open to him with such a pure sentiment of loss.

_"I miss you, Mr. Gold."_

Where he'd braced himself for a tearful plea toward her release, a plea he would have flatly refused, she'd instead confessed to missing him. _Him._ Mr. Gold, who only a handful in all of Storybrooke - all the world - would miss if he were to vanish overnight.

Gold stroked the handle of his cane, recalling their words in the kitchen. He had missed her too, and he'd brought down his walls long enough to confess his weaknesses to her.

Her invitation to dinner had been enough to bait him home from the shop rather than retreat to Regina for another restless night. Speaking so openly had been difficult, but he was glad of it now. It had been such a relief to talk, to touch her so freely.

Gold shivered, remembering her hand stroking his hair.

_Thank the gods above I've grown it long._

This night, he'd left work early to return her favor. Partan Bree was one of his favorite dishes, and he'd been beyond pleased that Belle had accepted his offer of the meal and engaged with him in some light banter before refusing, in no uncertain terms, his gifts of clothing and shoes.

That had been unexpected.

Any other woman would have been pleased with his offerings, but Belle was sharp. She could see his attempt to prove his claim over her. It was just short of barbaric, really, to dress her up so she'd better look the part of his woman, clothing her in his wealth to broadcast her status to the town.

Belle had seen the intent behind his gifts.

Yes.

The woman had seen what he was doing and put him in his place.

Her rapier wit was only one of the things he adored about her, even when it was aimed at him like a weapon. Perhaps he liked it aimed toward him most of all, as he liked being the center of her attention.

On reflection he was glad for her honesty in refusing the clothes.

Better that she was honest with him now than wear the clothing to play her part and let her resentment grow against him for it with each passing day.

But enough of that.

Belle was content to stay, and she'd forgiven him, which was more than he'd hoped for so soon after things between them had unravelled over the past weekend. It was only days later and it felt as if...

Gold didn't let his hopes stretch too far.

He had work to attend to, and a home project to begin.

Gold set his cane to lean against the edge of his desk and flipped open his iPad, idly browsing for furniture to fill the empty front of the house. After coming home early, he'd stood in both rooms, remembering the items that had so perfectly filled the spaces on the walls, the shelves, the floors. It was all gone now, leaving him with the task to restore.

His chest tightened.

This wasn't his area.

Gold curled his lip, sneering at the overwhelming number of pictures showing the potential for his home; color schemes and accent pieces and room themes and lighting options and comparisons of vintage styles against their more modern counterparts and...it was all too much.

 _This is for women,_ he thought in irritation.

Dressing well was one thing, but the man was ill-equipped to decorate the rooms by himself. As he'd told Belle, he hadn't been the one to decorate this house, he'd only maintained it over the years...

All at once, he missed Milah.

She would know what to do. She knew all about this, how to make a house into a home. He remembered how she'd flitted through the house after they'd moved in, adding color and light to everything she'd touched - not to mention all the money she'd spent, he remembered the fights they'd had over that as well.

But money aside, his wife had been the invisible hand behind the splendor of his house; all he'd done was give her this blank canvas and she'd worked her magic.

Well.

That had been years ago. It was up to him, now.

Gold sighed.

He skimmed the screen and groaned, feeling a headache coming on.

Furniture and rugs and curtains and paint...

The story he'd spun to Jacob had painted Belle as his new live-in housekeeper for the time being. He had no intention of ordering her to clean or cook for him, but a woman's touch about the front rooms would be quite valuable because he sure as hell had no interest in going it alone.

_Definitely not._

Gold set the tablet aside to charge. It wasn't late but he was ready to turn in; it had been a trying few days. Physical exhaustion he knew all too well. The injuries to his body were decades old but limping still took its toll, his leg ached whenever the weather changed.

Emotional exhaustion was a different matter.

It had been years since he had surrendered to his feelings in such a way, giving in to a panicked mess of violent rage and despair, and then in opening himself to Belle...he felt pleasantly drained, and Belle had only ever been a calming influence over him.

He was now content to move on from it all, find a way to rebuild the warmth he'd shared with the woman, establish a new normal between them here in his home.

Limping on to his room, Gold paused at that.

New routines, new games, more opportunities for him to show off to her...more time for them to talk, perhaps to touch...

Yes.

A new, better normal.

_What a lovely thought._

______________________________

Upstairs, after having chosen her outfit for work in the morning, Belle's thoughts were in line with Mr. Gold's. Now that things were on the road to recovery, she was feeling less and less inclined to leave him.

It had little to do with her short list of options on other places to stay, namely being to either return to her father, which wasn't going to happen, or find a room somewhere. Granny's Inn was fully booked, and would be until the construction on her building was finished. Her friends all loved her but she couldn't expect to crash on their couches for the next month.

Staying with Mr. Gold for the time being was no hardship, and whatever rumors would rise from her staying here, Belle realized days ago that she didn't much care. She didn't want to leave him, not now when they were just starting to reconnect.

Belle was ever curious about Mr. Gold, and she knew that seeing him in the shop or library was nothing compared to living with him. Here she was surrounded by the man, pieces of his past were in every corner of the house.

There were still questions between them that needed answering; Belle wouldn't leave him to this empty house, alone, until she understood more of who he truly was.

Belle set out her clothes for the next day, one of her simple tops and a pair of slacks with her flat shoes. She eyed the clothing Mr. Gold had given her again, heavily tempted, but she'd explained her refusal of the gifts. It was an effort to remember her reasons now as she held the wrap dress against herself before the large mirror in the bathroom.

_The man does have wonderful taste._

But she'd made her choice where the clothes were concerned, so Belle bit her lip and hung the dress back up in the closet. She wanted to wear the Louboutin heels again, but if she did that she might never take them off.

Taking her mind off the clothes, Belle returned to the bathroom to ready herself for a shower. She'd set out her hair things and body products the night before. Belle didn't have much. As with the majority of her clothes, most of her things were still in her apartment.

The woman missed having her own space, but she was content enough in staying here for the time being.

Belle stripped down and got under the hot spray of water, making quick work of washing her hair and soaping up her body. A quick rinse and she stepped out, wrapped in a towel as she applied lotion and combed out her hair. She was working another full day at the library but she didn't expect it would be very busy.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Belle buttoned Mr. Gold's pajama shirt over herself and checked her cell before settling into bed. Her eyes widened at the texts she'd received during the twenty minutes she'd spent in the shower.

**Ariel: 911 ASAP**

**Jasmine: Who was the friend you stayed with the other night?**

**Shane: Belle call me**

**Ashley: What's going on with you?**

**Marcus: Hey B call me back**

And Ruby's text, subtle as ever...

**Ruby: WTF Belle is it true?!**

Belle groaned softly and flopped back onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her face and screaming into it.

She didn't care what the general public thought of her arrangement with Mr. Gold - they'd assume the worst even if they'd gotten married with the blessings of the President, the Pope and God Himself - but her circle of friends would forever be asking questions over how this had all started, why Gold had demanded she stay, how he was treating her, what they did at the house, why her father had broken in, who was sleeping where, and on and on for days.

A curious bunch, her circle of friends.

Belle pulled the pillow from her face and continued scrolling through the texts, painfully accepting that her father hadn't made even one attempt to get in touch with her since this whole mess began.

Didn't he want to know where she was, or did he know and just care so little as to not try speaking with her?

_He doesn't care for you as a father should._

Mr. Gold hadn't known how right he was when he'd said that to her.

 _Not that it matters now,_ Belle thought. As bitter as the truth was, her father had proven himself to her time and again - the past week had been the final straw.

It was her friends who had become her family and it was to them that she had to come with the truth. The woman was here with Mr. Gold, she'd been here for days, and it was up to her to take control of how their new arrangement was to be viewed and understood by those closest to her.

 _No pressure,_ Belle thought as she brought the pillow over her face once more.

_______________________________

In the morning, Gold stepped out of his bedroom, dressed and ready to take on the day. He felt rested, refreshed. His mood was lighter than it'd been in the past several days, he was almost happy. He was pleased to have Belle so near to him, but that she only shared his roof due to the deal prevented him from fully enjoying her in his home.

All the same, he came out of his room and was greeted with the scent of cinnamon and toast. He came into the kitchen to find Belle at the stove, pouring herself a cup of fragrant tea.

She turned around to face him and smiled. So lovely. Such a thing to see, a woman in the house again.

"Good morning, Mr. Gold."

His grip tightened on the cane. "Good morning, Miss French."

"Do you have time for a little breakfast?"

"I always have time for your teas." He said, moving to the table as she poured a cup for him.

"I know you'll like this one, it's that apple cinnamon. The packet says it's more of an autumn flavor, but I love it all year round." She said as she set a plate of honeyed toast before him along with the steaming mug of tea.

"It's one of my favorites, thank you." He said, and together they began to eat in soft silence.

It wasn't the first breakfast they'd shared, but it was the first that struck Gold as being so blissfully domestic. Bittersweet memories rose to the forefront of his mind, those of he and Milah in the early days of their marriage, sitting down together for breakfast and tea in just this same way, spending time together in the mornings before starting their day.

Gold let himself imagine Belle in place of Milah as she kissed him at the door before he left for work, and kissed him again on his return home.

Such dreams he had.

"Are you working the library?" He asked, shrugging off the memories of years best left in the past.

Belle blew on her steaming tea, nodded. "Yes, it's the only place I'll be working today."

"Ah." Gold dipped his toast in the tea. "No flower shop, then? Or any of your other odd jobs?"

"No. No odd jobs and no way am I going near the flower shop any time soon." Belle said, trying to keep her voice light.

Resuming her slave labor, or, "volunteering" as she'd been calling it for the past year, at Game of Thorns was no longer a priority to Belle. The shop could burn for all she cared, her mind was more preoccupied with what she would tell her friends about her situation.

Belle didn't tell the man that her circle of friends had learned of their arrangement; Mr. Gold had made his indifference to what the town thought of him quite clear, people would be coming to her for answers.

Gold took a deep breath. He didn't want to bring this up, but he was too curious to leave it alone for long. "Miss French, have you spoken with your father?"

"No."

He sensed the shift in her mood at the mention of the man and immediately changed the subject. "You shouldn't walk today. I'll drop you at the library...if you want."

Belle followed his eyes to the window that faced the backyard, to the overcast sky. It was dreary and gray. Belle might have asked to borrow an umbrella, but a ride was the better bet on staying out of the rain if the storm came down today. Thunder rumbled quietly overhead, she could see the trees swaying hard in the wind.

It was her wardrobe that decided her. She was wearing a white blouse, the worst possible thing to wear when under the threat of rain without an umbrella at hand.

Belle smiled at him, "I don't want to get caught in a downpour halfway between here and there, so, yes, please!"

Gold smiled back in return, but he felt the need to remind her, "If you ride with me, we will be seen."

Belle paused at that. She knew what he meant.

It'd all been floating rumors for the past few days, but if she accepted his offer, it would be all the evidence the town would need to know that she was staying with Mr. Gold. Belle being seen in his car, leaving his house so early in the morning, was all anyone in town would be talking about.

Life as it was in a small town, but at the end of the day it was her life, her choice and her responsibility.

Belle shrugged. "So let them see. Have you got the keys?"

Gold smiled and waited at the table while she put on her simple shoes and gathered her purse. Once she was ready, he stood from the table and together, they headed on into town.

_______________________________

It was a short drive from the house to Main Street, neither Belle nor Mr. Gold would have minded walking if the weather had been more agreeable. Their ride was quiet, but pleasant enough, the both of them content with things as they were for the time being.

They knew that nothing would happen to them directly; it wasn't as if his car would be swarmed the instant anyone realized Belle was in the passenger seat. But they would be seen, and tongues would wag as they tend to do in small towns full of bored people.

They had discussed this.

Gold had wanted her to stay with him to send a message, and just as quickly he'd come to regret it. The weight of consequence would fall solely on her, and they both knew it.

Gold was already a bastard to half the town, but shade would fall on Belle as the woman who offered herself to escape the stresses of poverty, the whore who would warm the bed and keep house for a rich man.

No matter what rumors floated through the town, be they true or false, she would be caught in the long shadow that he cast.

Still, Belle had made her choice.

It was time to own it.

"Here we are, Miss French."

"Oh, thank you very much..."

Gold pulled up to the library steps and Belle thanked him as she exited his car, though she faltered as she did, for she'd glanced up and caught the eye of Ariel with her sister Harmony across the street as they walked, umbrellas in hand, heading up toward their salon.

"Miss French?"

Belle blinked, seeing the confused look on his face. "Oh, sorry! Thank you again for the ride, Mr. Gold."

"I'll come for you at closing time."

Belle nodded her thanks again, closed the car door, looking back to Ariel and Harmony as she did so. The striking red-head had stopped to watch the exchange between them, but thankfully neither she nor her sister approached to say anything after Mr. Gold drove on down the street to open his shop.

Once Belle had unlocked the library doors and booted up the computer system, her cell chirped with an alert. She wasn't surprised to see the barrage of text jargon from Ariel.

**Ariel: OMG its tru! R u & Gold 2gether now or wut?! Call me ASAFP!**

Belle rolled her eyes lightly and pocketed the cell, sure that Ariel had wasted no time in texting everyone what she'd seen. Of all her friends, Ariel gossiped the most. She would talk to the birds and the fish if she could, and when the mood struck she could curse like a sailor.

But Belle had work to do, and so got on with her day.

In the hours that followed, Belle's cell had buzzed with similar texts from Ruby, Jasmine and Shane - naturally concerned but more curious than anything, hungry for an explanation. She ignored the buzzing in her pocket as she handled reshelving the aisles, checking out a few handfuls of books for the day's patrons and updating the community boards.

Belle was careful to test the people she saw during the day, casually mentioning Mr. Gold to see if anyone would cast her a strange look or say something to show they knew where she'd been the last few days.

The woman was almost disappointed, however, as no one she spoke with did anything to suggest that they knew anything as being out of the ordinary.

Her cell went on buzzing in her pocket, yet none of her friends had stormed the doors to demand answers in person. Belle was thankful for that, even as the text alerts had been steady throughout the day.

At 12:30, Belle ate her lunch of leftover ziti and paired it with a cup of Mr. Gold's Partan Bree bisque in the small office she shared with Mrs. Mullins. It wouldn't be long before she had the office - and the library - all to herself.

Glancing up, Belle smiled to see the cartoon that Mr. Gold had drawn of her in roller skates, weeks ago.

Checking her cell again, Belle raised her brows to see that she had over fifteen texts from her friends, all of them demanding an explanation.

She sighed as she got back to work.

So, it had taken less than a week for the word to get out and spread to everyone Belle cared about.

 _I'm surprised it took this long,_ she thought in dry amusement.

Well. All eyes would be on her after work today.

Her friends were curious and concerned, she knew, but why should she rush to explain herself?

Belle wouldn't pander to them, she would tell the truth when the time was right.

It would be her words on her terms.

Not that her friends would ease off pestering her, but she would talk when she was ready.

Nearing the end of her workday, Belle sent out a mass text.

**B: I'll explain things soon.**

At the very most, she had bought herself a day before one of her circle grew impatient enough to approach her for answers in person.

 _Small blessings,_ she supposed.


	21. The Gossip vs The Gospel

Belle locked the front doors of the library amid the rapid buzzing of her cell, still tucked into the pocket of her blazer. After her mass text, she'd received even more messages from all her girlfriends who were in no way satisfied with the promise of an eventual explanation.

They wanted to know everything, right now.

 _Another day of suspense won't kill them,_ Belle thought lightly.

Shane and Marcus had had the good sense to back off, but she knew they were just as curious.

Pocketing the library keys, Belle stood out on the front steps, waiting for Mr. Gold to come for her as he'd promised. The weather hadn't improved much since the morning. The air smelled damp and the darkening clouds above threatened a downpour. The wind had picked up as well and the woman was glad she'd secured her hair into a tight twist above her nape.

Glancing up, Belle froze.

Ruby had just stepped out onto Main Street, easily catching her eye as the sidewalk was deserted for the moment. Belle groaned inside as she watched her friend turn and head her way from the diner.

Belle bristled. _Why can't we be left alone for just a little longer?_

She worried her friends would only complicate things now and Belle didn't feel her friendship with Mr. Gold could take much more complication.

They had made up just days ago, everything was still delicate between them.

Thankfully, before Ruby could cross the street and begin her interrogation, Mr. Gold pulled up to the library.

Belle stood, feeling torn between the two of them.

Mr. Gold, simply waiting for her to slide into the car with him, and Ruby no more than thirty feet away, her expression impatient, silently demanding just what the hell was going on.

Belle locked eyes with her friend, and shook her head.

_Not yet._

Ruby threw up her hands and huffed as she turned around, heading back home as Belle opened the door and slid into the seat beside Mr. Gold.

He had witnessed the exchange between the two women, but, wise man that he was, said nothing about it as he drove them back to his house.

______________________________

After a quiet but companionable dinner of the leftovers from their signature dishes, Belle and Gold retreated to opposite ends of the house just as they had the night before. They did not do so with the intention of turning in early, however.

Belle had gone upstairs to the guest room to let her hair down, plug in her cell (just brimming now with ever more impatient texts from her friends), take off her shoes and pick out her clothes for work the next day. A limited wardrobe meant the decision took less than a minute - slacks, blouse, blazer. She would wear her signature necklace too, as soon as she found it.

Turning to the window bench, Belle took her orchid into the bathroom where she dribbled water over the little pot - just enough to wet the soil. She was going to put it back before the window, but she changed her mind and took it downstairs instead.

Belle set her orchid on the kitchen table, thinking it'd be better if they could both enjoy it rather than keeping it upstairs in her room. The flower had been his gift to her, but gifts were best when shared.

 _Share and share alike._ She thought, remembering one of Snow's classroom creeds.

Just then, Belle heard a muffled grunt of effort and followed Mr. Gold's voice to the front of the house. The man had been busy, shedding his jacket and tie and breaking out a toolbox. When Belle found him in the living room there was already a rich suede loveseat in the center of the floor, and he was struggling to secure a new flat screen television to the wall.

"Mr. Gold, let me help you." She said, rushing forward to steady the other end of the TV.

"No, you don't have to-"

"It's all right, I've got it, I've got it." Belle cut him off when he would have refused her help.

Gold bit the inside of his cheek, irritated that she would think him so weak that she had to rush in and help him lift the flat screen. He shook off the flash of resentment. No. Belle had never pitied him his injury.

The man was more irritated that he had wanted to invite her in once the room was pulled together, not have her help in setting the scene.

In any case...

Together, they lifted the screen, securing it on the hooks he'd drilled into the wall just minutes prior. Taking a step back, Gold narrowed his eyes at it. "Does that look straight to you?"

Belle moved to stand directly before the mounted television, looking carefully. "Yes, it's straight."

Gold retook his cane and tapped it on the floor, pleased. "Good. I'll need you in the coming days, Miss French."

She raised a brow at that, expecting an explanation.

Gold spread his hands, encompassing the bare room around them. "The place could use a woman's touch."

 _So could I,_ he thought, watching as Belle swept her hair over one shoulder, exposing the length of her throat. He would like to kiss her there, tonight, right that moment.

Belle, wholly unaware of the turn his thoughts had taken, looked about the living room. But for the television on the wall and the loveseat in the center of the floor, the space was empty. She gave him an ironic smile, "Your living room already looks like my apartment."

"I can appreciate your minimalist tastes."

Belle shook her head, "Somehow I doubt that. What makes you think I'll be any good at decorating your house?"

Gold shrugged. "You're a woman."

"The last time I checked." Here Belle made a show of glancing down the collar of her blouse. They shared a soft laugh at her joke. "But I also can't dance and you've seen I'm no good with babies, so what does that tell you?"

He quirked his lips at that. "Only that dancing is overrated, and the child can be difficult around strangers. Your special talent may rest in decorating a house. I could go it alone but I am not a patient man when it comes to this."

"I believe you, when did you find the time to buy the loveseat and the flat screen?" Belle asked.

"I bought the television this afternoon, around two or so. I left it here before going back to the shop so I could wire it up tonight."

The memory of what she'd found in her father's house nagged at her; she should have told him sooner, but it'd slipped from her mind with all that had happened between them during the past few days.

"Mr. Gold, when I went back to my father's house on Sunday, I saw your television there. I can go tomorrow and get it back for you-"

"No." He said flatly.

"But you could return the new one and get your money back."

"No." Gold shook his head, refusing the idea. He would have Belle stay away from her father for years if he could. "I took back the only thing he stole that was worth anything to me."

The man did not elaborate further.

Gold shook his head, tapping the arm of the loveseat with his cane. "This I moved from my study, a stand-in until I have a proper sofa again."

"You moved it by yourself?"

"I'm not helpless, Miss French." He bit out, but went on in a softer tone. "I've learned to manage. And I want my house restored as soon as possible."

Belle nodded, understanding him perfectly.

"I'll do what I can." She promised quietly, careful not to stir his prickly mood.

"Good, then you can start tonight." He said, and handed her the television remote.

"What do you mean?"

"We never finished _All About Eve_." He reminded her with a smile as he moved to turn off the overhead light. "Why not tonight?"

The woman felt her pulse quicken and she smiled at him, remembering that night of sweet comfort they'd shared in April. It was clear now that he wanted more of the same.

He would not be disappointed.

Once the room fell dark, Belle used the remote to input the Netflix command, and joined Mr. Gold on the sofa. This time, as they shared a blanket over their laps, Gold felt no guilt at all over holding Belle against him once she'd fallen asleep.

______________________________

Friday came over Storybrooke, even greyer than the day before, the summer storm just overhead. It would break within days, flooding the streets and washing it all out to sea. Even with the weather the way it was, Belle decided that she would walk to the library rather than ride with Mr. Gold.

It wasn't that she disliked riding with him, she only wanted to use the time on the walk to think. It had been nearly a week since the man had brought her into his home, and her friends would not leave her alone until they knew _why._

She wasn't upset with them for being curious - as far as they knew, she and Mr. Gold were barely more than strangers, yet now she was openly sharing his house. If she hadn't known Mr. Gold herself, but it'd been Ariel or Jasmine who was suddenly living with the man, then yes, Belle would be doing the same thing as they had for the past several days and demand an explanation.

Her friends would not give her another day, Belle knew.

The woman broke from thoughts of her friends at the _tap_ of Mr. Gold's approach to join her in the kitchen. He came in, well-suited in pinstriped navy and smiling to see her.

This was fast becoming a ritual between them.

Belle would rise for the day first, start a brew of tea and then Mr. Gold would join her for a bit of breakfast. It was different, but familiar to her as well. This was not so far a step away from her visits to his shop over the past year. She had often brought sodas, new tea blends and occasionally lunch for them to share; his home had replaced the shop as their sanctuary.

"Good morning."

"Good morning Mr. Gold. Breakfast?" She asked, gesturing to the refrigerator.

"Oh, no thank you. I'll just have a cup of tea." He started toward the stove where the kettle rested, but Belle headed him off, and waved him away to the table so that she could serve him.

For a moment he appeared ready to argue with her, but then backed away, taking a seat as she busied herself with the tray. Belle brought it over to the table and sat across from him so they might help themselves to tea, sugar, honey, lemon and shortbread cookies.

"Thank you, Miss French." He said politely.

"You're very welcome Mr. Gold." Belle sipped at her tea, but her mind wasn't on the man before her, more than anything it was what she would tell her friends about him instead.

"How do you expect it will be at the library today?"

"It'll be fine, I'm more worried about what comes after." She confided.

No reason not to tell him, she figured. This had to do with him too.

Gold set down his cup. "Hmm?"

"The news over us is out, and has been for a few days already. My friends have been texting me constantly."

"Ah. And what have you told them?"

"I haven't told them anything yet."

Gold lifted a brow. "Why not? Trying to draw out the suspense?"

Belle smiled at that. "I'm not that diabolical." She grew more serious as she explained her reasons behind keeping quiet for the past several days. "I...I wanted to give you and I more time to get comfortable with each other again. Everyone knowing so soon after it all happened was going to complicate things and I didn't want that."

Gold nodded. "I understand. But we are better now, don't you think?"

"We can stand to be in the same room without pulling each other's hair, so I'd call in a big improvement from a few days ago." Belle joked, but Mr. Gold was still serious.

"You had every reason to be upset." Gold held his cup before him, tapping it with his fingertips. "I was just being...myself."

Belle shook her head. "When are you going to stop that? My father broke into your house and wrecked it, Mr. Gold. I saw everything he ruined, and yes, they were just things, but they had to have meant something to you - why else did you leave on Sunday, if it wasn't because you couldn't stand to see all the damage in broad daylight?"

"I've no talent for housework," Gold dismissed, slipping on his mask of indifference to hide just how unnerved he was by her clear perception of him.

_Who are you, Belle French?_

"You've no talent for lying, either. At least to me. I see you, Mr. Gold. You're not the monster you pretend to be."

"Fine. Let's say I'm half the monster I pretend to be, is that fair?"

Belle slapped her palm down on the tabletop, rattling the tray, the harsh sound startling him in his seat.

"Stop trying to distract me." She ordered him. "I'm trying to tell you that I don't blame you for how you reacted that night. My father violated your home and so violated you. You could have killed him, but you didn't. Any other man would have done much worse than just ask that I stay, but you didn't. I know you. Stop trying to build yourself into such a hard bastard with me, it's too late for that."

Gold bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snapping back at her. He was unused to being _scolded_ like this and he wasn't sure he liked it, not even from her.

"What will you tell your friends?" He asked instead.

"I plan to meet with them at Granny's after work, and I'll tell the truth then."

"It may reflect better on you if you don't tell the whole truth."

"What do you mean?"

"People have already been talking about us. If you tell your circle that I forced you here, or that I am as beastly to you as anyone else, they may sympathize rather than judge."

Gold was again presenting her with free reign over the narrative of how they came to be together like this. If Belle were to keep quiet on the subject, she would be viewed as a woman who'd jumped at the chance to warm a rich man's bed. However, if Belle spun the story in a certain way, she would emerge as the hero - the young woman who offered herself in her father's place and suffered every day for it.

She would be Belle French, the beautiful martyr of Storybrooke.

The woman sneered at the idea.

She wouldn't tell lies just to gain sympathy. The man had so little faith in people that he thought her friends wouldn't stand by her if they knew she had agreed to stay with him.

Well, she would work to open his eyes.

"No. I am not going to lie about you like that." She shook her head. "I hadn't planned on telling them about our friendship yet, but I will now. I'm going to tell them everything, right from how this all started. It's time for us to let go of the secret, Mr. Gold. There's no reason for it anymore. Once I tell them the truth, they'll see you as my friend."

_There's no end to this woman._

Gold reached across the table to take her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. "On your head be it, then, Miss French. But I should tell you, two of your friends haven't been so patient as to wait for your call."

"What do you mean?"

"Your Mr. Garrison and Mr. Sawyer paid me a visit at the shop yesterday."

Belle set down her cup, surprise all over her face. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I knew you would learn about it soon enough on your own."

"What happened?"

"Well, they didn't make _this_ look any worse, so I'd say it was a productive visit." He said, tracing a fingertip over the cut on his lip and gesturing to the bruises that still colored his face, courtesy of her father.

Belle looked down into her cup at the reminder that his home hadn't been the only thing damaged that awful night. She still hadn't seen Moe, but she hoped Mr. Gold had been able to get a few hits in - it was only fair after the offense done against him.

"They came in about an hour before I left to pick you up last night." Gold went on, still stroking her hand. "I told them the truth."

"Did you explain how we've known each other?"

"No. I left that out. I kept things short. All they know is how you came to be staying here."

Gold felt that he'd reached a point in his life where he didn't have to explain himself to anyone. He would leave all that to her.

As Belle departed for the day with a happily borrowed umbrella, the man finished his tea and thought over his encounter with two of her most loyal protectors...

The day before had been a slow day at the shop, slow enough that Gold had slipped out for an hour to purchase a new television for the living room. He didn't mind. He wasn't much in the mood for dealing, he was content to wait out the clock by catching up on paperwork. Once the time came, he would pick up Miss French and hopefully entice her into watching a film with him after dinner that evening.

He knew it wouldn't take much.

Small steps toward a repaired connection, but the man would take any step forward he could gain with her. Belle was worth everything to him now.

 _And not only me,_ he thought as the bell above the door chimed and he saw who had just come in.

He was surprised to see the young men, but he was not worried. Having done good business with them both before, he knew them to be level-headed. They wouldn't be threatening him over Belle, so he relaxed his grip on the cane and decided that, no, he would not need to reach for the pistol he kept concealed under the counter.

"Gentlemen."

"Hi, Mr. Gold." Shane said as the pair made their way to the counter and stood across from him.

Gold did not move. "What can I do for you?"

"We've been hearing rumors about you and Belle." Marcus began, and Shane's expression sank into one of annoyance.

Clearly, Shane hadn't wanted to open on the subject so quickly and Marcus was jumping ahead of him. Interesting.

"Rumors about Miss French and I?" Gold asked them.

"Yes, sir." Shane said.

"Salacious gossip?"

"Yes." Marcus nodded.

"All foul tales, you think?"

"We hope that's all it is."

"Should I guess what the stories entail?" Gold asked, wishing they would just get on with it.

"These stories we've heard, they should concern you."

"Why should they? I'm not bothered with the gossip of bored housewives."

"Well, we are when it involves our friend." Marcus asserted.

"How noble." Gold deadpanned. "Now, the rumors you've been hearing involve me, Miss French, her father and some violence, I'm sure."

"It depends on who's telling the story." Shane said flatly.

The pair had heard several versions of the same story, all of them ending with the one piece of truth the town could agree on, that Belle had spent the past several nights with Mr. Gold. What they sought now was the truth straight from the source.

"Enlighten me, then." Gold urged him. "I love a good story."

Shane shifted his weight, unsure of what he should tell the older man. Offending Gold now could mean that Belle would suffer for it later.

Rumors of abuse against her had made their way all about town as well; of course, if there turned out to be any truth to _that,_ then he and Marcus would deal with Gold themselves. Right here, right now.

"We've heard that you and Belle have...that she's with you now."

"With me. And how do you mean that?" Gold asked, openly enjoying the distinctly uncomfortable expressions that crossed their faces.

"We've heard that Belle's been staying with you for the past week."

"Now, that much is true."

"Sleeping with you?"

"Technically."

He and Belle did sleep together in the same house, after all.

"Damn it, you know what we're asking!" Marcus snapped, done with his games.

Gold wasn't intimidated by the flash of temper.

The men were here for Belle, they cared for her. He could never fault them for that.

He supposed he was finished toying with them for now.

"All right, then. Ask me what you want to know, not if every different rumor you've heard is true, otherwise we'll be here all day and I haven't the time for that."

He couldn't be late in picking up Belle from the library, that wouldn't do at all.

Marcus had calmed, remembered the Mr. Gold he knew, not the sinister lech of the gossip mill. "Mr. Gold, will you please explain what happened over the weekend, how Belle came to be staying in your house? Everyone has a theory but like you said, it's all gossip, and Belle won't talk to anyone yet."

Gold nodded. "She'll talk when she's ready, I expect. I'll tell you how it all went from my end."

Shane and Marcus both leaned in slightly, eager to learn his side of things.

Mr. Gold smoothed a hand down the front of his suit jacket, and began. "Sometime during this past Saturday evening, Mr. French broke into my house."

"Why?" Marcus asked.

Gold shrugged. "I'd had a confrontation with him earlier that day. The break-in was retaliation for that, I expect. I'd been in with the mayor that evening, so I hadn't known of the damage until I returned home late that night."

"What were you doing with the mayor?"

Gold raised a pointed brow at the pair. "Guess."

Both Shane and Marcus backed off the question, and Mr. Gold went on. "I knew it was him who did it, who else? I've crossed paths with him before."

The men knew all too well what Mr. Gold was referring to; the famous night that Moe had had a late night drinking and wandered into the Mayor's backyard, trashing the flower beds that his own florist shop had planted that week. When questioned, Moe had slurred out some angry words of how the flowerbeds hadn't been planted the way he'd wanted, that someone at Game of Thorns had it out to undermine him.

Thankfully Gold had been there to stop French from doing further damage to the yard or breaking into the mayor's house. The men had fought, and once it was all finished, Mr. Gold had walked away with a black eye and Moe had narrowly escaped prison.

Shane and Marcus remembered how humiliated Belle had been, so mortified that she'd not left her apartment for days, hiding from the shadow cast by her father.

"So what did you do?"

"What does anyone do when they've been robbed? I looked through all the damage to see what had been taken. Mr. French tore through the two front rooms of the house, and he stole something precious from me. I was... _upset."_

"What did he take?"

Gold resisted the urge to turn around and check the wall safe to reassure himself that it was still secure inside. He shook his head, "It hardly matters now, I took it back. I drove to his house, forced the door and found him with friends inside, gloating over what he'd done. I think you can fill in the blanks about what happened next."

Marcus and Shane nodded, silent. They could well imagine the scene, Moe bragging to whatever pack of barfly friends he'd had staying over that weekend, and then Mr. Gold storming in, furious wrath in a tailored suit.

Mr. Gold could be stirred to a level of violence that belied his formality and generally calm indifference to everyone in town. They'd never seen it themselves, but people talk.

He went on, "He and I had an altercation."

"I'll bet." Shane said. He couldn't blame Mr. Gold for going after French if it was true that he'd broken into his house - if French had done the same to the apartment he shared with Marcus, they would have done the same thing. "But where does Belle fit in?"

"Yeah, why's she staying with you if her dad's the one who broke in?" Marcus asked.

"Mr. Gold, if Belle told you she helped with the break-in or something like that, you need to know it's not true." Shane told him, thinking that Belle might have jumped to take the blame from her father, paying for his crime on her back with Mr. Gold. He couldn't believe she would sell herself in that way, but Belle had a long history of going above and beyond in covering for the man.

"That's right, she couldn't have been with her dad breaking into your house on Saturday. She worked her shift at the library and then we picked her up with Ruby to go to The Rabbit Hole right after. We were together all night." Marcus agreed. "I dropped her off myself."

Gold nodded, "No, I know she wasn't involved in the break-in. She is many things, but she's nothing like her father."

If the men could agree on anything, they could agree on that.

"So how does Belle fit into this?"

Gold looked to Marcus. "I should thank you for dropping her off, Mr. Sawyer. You delivered her right to me."

"What do you mean?"

"She came in and found her father and I...in an argument." Gold explained, gesturing to the new bruises and cut that marred his face.

"She found you fighting?" Shane asked. This story kept getting better and better.

"It wasn't much of a fight." Gold boasted lightly.

It was classless to be fighting anyone at his age and position, but he couldn't help it; the man knew he wasn't much of a threat at first sight - he was in his middle years, the grey of his hair perhaps aging him further, there was his limp to consider and he wasn't tall or very broad. Even now, he was dwarfed by the two men in his shop, but there was something to be said for experience and skill. Of course, the rage that had taken him over that night had been an asset.

"In any case, Miss French stepped in and asked that she and I discuss things in private." Gold explained, fudging the facts a bit here. "So I took her to my house and asked that she clear the mess."

"All right, see, that all makes sense." Marcus said. "But it's been almost a week. Why is she still staying with you?"

Gold shrugged. "Just cleaning up after her father hasn't balanced the scales. I'm keeping her."

Marcus and Shane stared at him, incredulous. "What - you're keeping her?"

"Yes."

"Like, you're just keeping her at your house?"

"As I said, yes."

Shane didn't think of himself as a stupid man, but something in what Mr. Gold had just told him wasn't computing in his mind. "How do you mean that, exactly?"

"I mean Miss French will be staying with me. Moe French took something precious from me, so I took his daughter."

Marcus felt as dumbfounded as Shane at Mr. Gold's simple reasoning. "You _took_ Belle? You just took her, like, you just decided you were going to take another person and keep them - Mr. Gold, that's kidnapping!"

Gold rolled his eyes. "She isn't tied up in the basement, is she? Better she's with me than back with her father, I should think."

"Wait, so she cleaned up your house after her father broke in, and she's actually _agreed_ to stay with you?" Marcus asked, clearly shocked.

The man frowned slightly. "I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Mr. Sawyer, but yes."

Shane narrowed his eyes. "For how long?"

"Until I say otherwise."

"What have you been doing these past few days?"

"After the damage her father did to my home, it's taken some time to repair things." Gold said, and that much was true. All he cared about repairing was his relationship with Belle.

"And what about the rumors?" Marcus demanded. "I appreciate all you've done for me, Mr. Gold, but I swear to God if you're making Belle sleep with you-"

"I haven't touched her." Gold bit out, his voice cold in the face of that accusation. "It's not that kind of arrangement. Now, I've told you what you wanted to know. We're done here."

Gold shook off the memory of Shane and Marcus and their questions. He'd shared the truth with them, and they would learn Belle's account of their situation later in the day.

He didn't mind.

Belle had a talent for honesty that he did not share. By night's end, all in her circle would know of the friendship they'd enjoyed for the past year, and with any hope they would accept her as being his captive guest for the foreseeable future.

Gold thought on that.

_Captive guest._

A strangely fitting title for Miss French.

_______________________________

**B: I'll be at Granny's in 1 hour**

The mass text Belle sent out was met by immediate affirmation from her circle - the girls were excited to finally learn the truth.

Belle was silently reciting to herself what she would tell them, even as she locked up at the library and walked her way down Main Street, smiling politely to those she passed on her way.

She did notice one woman who gave her a strange look, but who knew why that might be? Belle hadn't met her, there was no reason to jump to conclusions about the entire town knowing where she slept.

Belle did not cross the street to check in with the man at his shop, though the lights were on and she could see him moving about inside as he wrapped up for the day. Belle would miss visiting with him there, but she wouldn't miss having to duck into the back whenever someone came looking for him.

No more need for secrets, now.

Belle sat at one of the picnic tables on the patio of Granny's diner, silent until all her girlfriends had arrived, eager for the truth. She draped her blazer over the back of her chair; despite the dark clouds overhead, it was still summer in Storybrooke. The air was hot and humid.

She considered going into the restroom to put up her hair, but chose to stay put as her friends began approaching her table. One by one, they came. Naturally, Ruby had been waiting there already, Ashley was next to arrive, then Mary-Margaret, Ariel and then Jasmine was the last to arrive.

Ruby had brought Belle an iced tea with extra lemon, a soft bribe to get her started.

Belle took a deep breath, knowing there was no way out of this now. If she were to try bolting from the table, Ashley was ready to tackle her, and Jasmine wouldn't hesitate in tying her to the chair to get her to stay put and _finally_ talk to them.

Belle opened her mouth to speak, and everyone at the table leaned in to listen. "This past Saturday, my father broke into Mr. Gold's house. After Marcus dropped me off at home after The Rabbit Hole, I walked in and found Mr. Gold with my father. They had been fighting."

Soft gasps of "No way!" and "You're serious?" made their way around the table, but Belle went on, wanting to tell the hard facts first.

"Mr. Gold was...I couldn't see a way to keep him from coming after my father, so I offered to work with him, find a way to balance things. He agreed, and drove me to his house so I could see all the damage my father had caused. It was awful."

Here she paused, sipping her tea. "He hadn't just picked the lock and stolen a few things. He broke windows, he sliced up the furniture, broke everything he could get his hands on and on top of that, he spray-painted the walls. I'd offered to work for Mr. Gold in his shop or with one of his other businesses, but he refused."

Belle cleared her throat. "He wanted to send a message. He wanted me to stay with him."

Ruby was the first to speak after Belle dropped the bomb of truth on why she'd been staying with the cagey Mr. Gold. She reached across the table and took Belle's hand into both of hers. It was cold from holding onto her glass of iced tea.

"Belle, tell me the truth. If Gold has hurt you, there are guys I know at the docks who are crazy enough to go after him, you just say the word."

"No!" Belle pulled her hand from Ruby's grip. "Please, don't do anything like that. God only knows what he'd do if someone else came after him now."

"You've been with him for almost a week, what have you been doing all this time?"

Belle stirred her tea with the straw before sipping at it.

"The first day, Sunday, I cleaned up the mess after he'd left the house. It took me half a day, there was so much that my father ruined..." Belle blinked, banishing the memory of the violated home. "We only spoke for a few minutes on Sunday, and it didn't go well. We were both angry, but more angry at the situation than at each other. I left to go back to dad's house to get my things. Jasmine, I was heading back to Mr. Gold when we bumped into each other." Belle said, locking eyes with her friend at the end of the table.

Jasmine raised her glass toward Belle in acknowledgment. "I thought so."

Belle went on, "When I got back to his house, he had already gone. I didn't see him that night, and only for a few minutes on Monday. I didn't know what to do, so I just did my laundry and stayed in the guest room. I'd forgiven him, but he was avoiding me. I didn't want him to think I hated him. So, on Tuesday, I invited him to dinner."

"What did you make?" Ariel asked.

"Ziti."

Ashley made a _hmm_ sound in the back of her throat before asking, "And did you talk about what happened?"

"Yes...he apologized for how he'd acted over the weekend. He'd been so upset over his house, and he was sorry for demanding that I stay with him." Belle said, trying to be careful in what she revealed here.

She didn't want to blurt out everything, she wanted to tell her story one chapter at a time.

"And that was on Tuesday. So he apologized for making you stay, but he still hasn't let you go." Ashley confirmed.

"He's not forcing me to-"

Ruby narrowed her eyes. "What has he done to you?"

Snow's expression was concerned as well, "Mr. Gold hasn't...you know, _tried_ anything?"

Belle rolled her eyes. She'd expected this, and though Mr. Gold regretted his terms in their arrangement, it would be an uphill battle to convince her friends of that. Gold was a man of great authority, and so of course there were people who resented that, but it was so unfair for her friends, women who'd barely even spoken to the man, to insinuate that he'd done anything to hurt her.

"Nothing like that, he hardly ever even calls me by my first name."

Ruby scoffed, "What, you really expect us to believe that he only wants you around to keep house for him?"

"Is it really so hard to believe?"

"It's just...this isn't adding up, Belle. There's something you're not telling us. He's not a kind man." Snow put in.

"And you know him so well, right?" Belle challenged. "Have any of you ever even spoken to him for more than a few minutes?"

A round of noncommittal murmurs flowed over the group.

Snow shrugged. "The longest I've talked with him was probably when he offered me the terms on my apartment lease."

"He does business with my father, not me." Jasmine said, not terribly interested. She didn't know Mr. Gold, but she believed Belle's story. Humiliating as it was to be brought on to keep house for the man, her friend was fortunate that'd been all he'd demanded of her.

Ruby completely dismissed the question, "The quiet ones who keep to themselves are always the biggest perverts. Have you checked your room for cameras? And the bathroom too - in the shower and the toilet."

"Ruby, that's sick!" Ariel squirmed in her seat at the idea.

Belle scowled bitterly at her, but Ruby wasn't finished.

"What? Belle, you don't know what he's trying to pull in making you stay there! I mean, he's _European."_ Ruby finished her point, as if his heritage was any point at all.

Belle had had enough, and abruptly stood from her chair. "That's it! Experience doesn't make you an expert!"

Ruby raised her brows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that just because you've dated half the town doesn't mean you're in a position to judge what Mr. Gold wants from me, and Snow, you're no better!" Belle said, turning on the demure teacher.

Mary-Margaret's eyes widened, she was the doe facing an angry lion. "What?"

"How's Katherine? Haven't heard from her lately, it's a lucky thing she's away for business so often because we all know you haven't backed off from David. But yes, Mr. Gold is so horrible because he asked that I stay and help repair the damage my father did." Belle took her blazer off the back of the chair, getting ready to leave, but not done with defending one friend to a group of another. "Instead of letting me tell you you're just jumping to these sick ideas - cameras in the toilets, Ruby? What's the matter with all of you?"

At all these home truths, Ruby and Snow thankfully fell silent, while Jasmine, Ashley and Ariel had been wiser to keep their overt opinions on Mr. Gold to themselves.

"Mr. Gold hasn't taken anything from me, but would you like to know what he's given? A beautiful room, and he's never set foot inside it since I've come to stay there. He's given me a safe place to stay. That's more than I can even say for my own father!" Belle fought past the tightness in her throat to go on, "He's been a wonderful friend to me, none of you know anything about him."

Belle turned away, satisfied she'd defended the man and stood up to her friends' suspicions. She hated it when they were upset with each other but she couldn't let their accusations go on - it wasn't fair that there was never anyone on Mr. Gold's side.

The woman ignored Ruby calling after her as she stepped off Granny's patio and turned down the street.

"Belle, wait! Come back!"

Snow put a hand on Ruby's arm to stop her from following Belle into the wealthy neighborhood that stood adjacent to Storybrooke's Main Street.

"No, Ruby, let her go...she's right."

Ariel raised a brow and stirred her Coke. "About Gold? No way. She just admitted he made her stay with him."

"Yes, but that's not all she said, and we didn't let her finish. She's right, we didn't listen to her. Belle's been staying with him for days, if she's so sure of him then there has to be a good reason for it. Maybe we've misjudged all of this." Snow reasoned to the table.

Jasmine wasn't convinced, but she could see the wisdom of a 'wait and see' approach here; as Snow had just said, Belle had been with the man for days, which already gave her more insight into him than any of them could claim. If Belle was sure, then who were they to argue?

"What do you think we should do?" She asked.

Ashley had already texted an apology to Belle, along with a plea for a talk in private. No response yet, but then it had been all of two seconds since tapping 'send'.

"The only thing we can do, just give her time."

______________________________

Belle stalked through the neighborhood, hot blood throbbing through her with every step. She was angry with her friends - not only for their suspicions over Mr. Gold, but because they hadn't let her tell the whole story. If they had only listened, Belle would have told them everything; how their soft friendship had begun, the secret sides of the man that no one had ever seen.

_No one listens to me._

Her father had never listened when she'd tried to talk to him about getting help, and there had been days when she'd _begged._

She'd begged her mother, too.

Begged her to stay, and then begged to take Belle with her before she'd left.

For all the good that had done.

And now, her friends hadn't wanted to listen to the truth about Mr. Gold.

Again, if she'd traded places with any one of them, she might be just as skeptical...but she knew she would have listened.

Belle's thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable _thrum_ of Marcus's car. She stopped on the sidewalk, turning as he pulled up to the curb before her. She approached the car and leaned her elbows on the door to look inside. "Marcus."

He smiled at her from behind the wheel. "Rough night?"

"You could say that."

"Girl talk didn't go well?"

"How did you know about that?"

"I see all and know all in Storybrooke."

Belle rolled her eyes, "Sure you do. Anyway, girl talk turned into a big girl fight at Granny's."

"Oh, yeah? Were you pillow-fighting in panties?" He asked, raising a brow at her.

Belle stood up and began moving down the sidewalk. "Goodbye, Marcus."

He honked at her and began to roll the vehicle to keep pace with her stride. "Belle, hang on! Come on, come back and talk to me."

Belle stopped and approached the Mustang again. "I know that you and Shane visited with Mr. Gold yesterday."

"Yeah, we did. Sorry. I mean, you weren't talking, and with all the rumors flying around...he told us why you're staying over there now."

A truck had turned down the street and was approaching them. Belle huffed and slid in beside him so he wouldn't be stuck holding up traffic just to talk to her. Grateful that she was being reasonable, Marcus turned the corner, taking them back into town.

Belle stiffened, "Don't take me back to Granny's. I can't deal with them all over again tonight."

"All right. Can you deal with Shane? He's just closed up shop for the night."

She sighed. "That's fine. After we get him, will you take me back to Mr. Gold's?"

Marcus nodded and put on his right blinker after stopping at an intersection. "If that's what you want."

Belle rubbed a hand over her face, so frustrated she could only laugh. "All I wanted for tonight was for them to understand that there's the Mr. Gold that the town sees, and then there's the real person behind all that. I could barely tell them anything before they started with all these suspicions, and I'm sure you can guess what Ruby opened with."

"What, Ruby asking wild questions about your sex life? I'm shocked." He said flatly. "Don't worry, I won't ask you since Mr. Gold already shut me down when I asked him the same thing."

"Oh, no! What did you ask him?!" Belle demanded.

"Dont snap at me." Marcus warned her. "Out of concern for _you,_ yes, I asked if he'd forced you into anything. Belle, you kept quiet about this for days and let the story get out of control. We were stuck with a hundred different rumors, and I got sick of waiting for you to come around with answers. So, yes, I asked him."

Humbled, Belle asked, "What did he tell you?"

"He just said that your situation, whatever it is, it's not one of 'those arrangements'." Marcus told her, making an attempt to copy Gold's accent and failing miserably. "We get it now, you're just sleeping over, not sleeping with him. It looks like you two are playing house from the outside, though. You have to know that."

"We know. That's what he wanted, at first. His home had been violated, Marcus, and he was reacting, trying to make a statement. He wanted to use me as a way to warn against anyone planning to make a move against him." Belle groaned and closed her eyes briefly. "He wanted to take it back the next day, but it was already too late. I'd made my choice to play into it."

"You're really okay with this?"

"I know the truth, and I want my friends to know the truth too."

"Yeah, but what about everyone else?" Marcus asked.

Belle shook her head. "I'm not worried about them."

Her assertion, true as it was, was incredibly short-sighted. In time she would learn how unforgiving a small town could be, but Belle didn't have the luxury of planning very far ahead. Her life had been upended just days ago. She could only deal with one issue at a time.

Marcus pulled in front of Shane's family jewelry store, and he slipped into the Mustang to join them. He greeted them both, but one look at Belle told him what he needed to know, so he didn't ask. He was satisfied with the answers they'd gained from Mr. Gold the day before.

Shane put an arm around Belle's shoulders, grateful when she leaned into him. She sighed, still upset with her friends, but grateful in a way that he and Marcus had already spoken with Mr. Gold so she wouldn't have to try explaining things all over again.

The short ride was silent but for the radio as the car turned into Mr. Gold's neighborhood and after a few turns, pulled over to park in front of the notorious house. Together, the trio existed the car. Belle climbed the stairs to the front porch, her friends trailing behind her.

She didn't have a key, so pressed the doorbell. They didn't have to wait long.

Mr. Gold answered the door, taking in the sight of Belle's red eyes and the concerned faces of the men. Clearly her evening hadn't gone as she'd planned, but then, what ever does?

_How can you give God a laugh? Tell him your plans._

The man knew the truth in that all too well. He'd had plans, once, plans for his family - and God was still laughing.

Gold stepped back to let Belle inside, then turned to Shane and Marcus. "Nightcap?"

Grateful to be invited, the men stepped into the house, the first in a parade of guests to visit the house of Mr. Gold in the next few days.

______________________________

Saturday, and the skies were still dark with the pending storm.

Gold could feel it in his bones, a soft ache that he'd learned to live with the past several years. The rain would come for a day or two and then it would be bright skies over Storybrooke again, all summery breezes and colorful flowers.

The man tightened his grip on the handle of his cane at the passing thought of flowers, and remembered Game of Thorns. The florist shop had been struggling for well over a year, but it was thanks to Belle that he hadn't had cause to foreclose.

She was too damn loyal to her father's business, a venture that Moe French had let fall into neglect but refused to part with. Gold imagined it had something to do with Belle's mother, the shop being the symbolic torch Moe fought to keep burning for her in the hopes that his wife would return.

Now, there was a thought.

He could arrange an accident that left Game of Thorns burnt to the ground, and Belle free of the anchor that was Moe French.

_Hmm..._

He'd never done anything so drastic (that he would admit to in open court) but the thought was tempting. In keeping Belle with him, he was keeping her away from her father and by her own admission, she refused to work at the florist shop. When he'd asked her about it the other day, she'd seemed almost empowered by her decision to avoid the place.

Good.

Let her taste the power of control, let her seize the life she'd wanted but had had to turn away from to tend to her father. Yes, let her live free of her past...so long as she could live out her future with _him._

Selfish, to be sure, but Gold was who he was.

He had seized Belle to his side the moment he'd seen the opportunity to keep her. It hadn't been his plan to force her into his bed, of course, he'd only wanted her close. Days had passed since she'd agreed to stay, and Gold had made efforts to make her comfortable.

Despite her protests, he wasn't finished yet.

Gold didn't want her to leave, but it also wasn't enough that she just went along with his want to keep her.

He wanted Belle to _want_ to stay with him.

 _Unfortunately,_ I _can't stay._ Gold thought with some irony as he checked his watch and broke his own train of thought where Belle was concerned.

"Miss French." He greeted as he stepped into the kitchen to find her with a magazine at the table.

"Good morning."

"I have to step out to pick up a bit of precious cargo."

Belle raised her brows. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I can manage the heavy lifting. No wild parties while I'm gone." He warned teasingly.

"I'll try to keep the rave contained to my room, Mr. Gold."

The man nodded with a smile and left her at the table, confident that she would be there when he returned later in the day.

He wasn't gone for more than half an hour when Belle looked up from her magazine at the doorbell chimes sounding throughout the house. She didn't think twice about answering the door even with Mr. Gold away.

She was surprised to find Ruby and Mary-Margaret outside on the porch, however.

Surprised and irritated.

"What's this? Round 2?" Belle drawled, crossing her arms.

Mary-Margaret put up her hands in a placating gesture. "No, Belle, please. We talked too much last night, if you want to talk I promise we'll listen. We'll _just_ listen."

Belle nodded, accepting her friend's plea for another talk, and waved them on into the house. She looked at Ruby, who still appeared skeptical, and more than a touch uncomfortable at being invited into the lair of the mysterious Mr. Gold.

"Ruby? You sure you want to hear this?" Belle prompted.

Her friend nodded, "If it'll help things make more sense, then yes."

Belle nodded in return, and lead them past the bare front of the house, back into the kitchen. Belle began to make coffee, silently laughing at the pair of them. They appeared so awed by the house - she'd been just as impressed by the house on her first visit, only a little over a week ago now, but it was amusing to see it in others.

"You can sit down, I promise he's not hiding in the shadows waiting to attack or anything." She teased. Belle was a forgiving woman, and they had been her friends for years.

Relieved, both Ruby and Mary-Margaret sat at the table, nerves settled, and they waited for the coffee to brew.

The robust scent filled the space and within minutes, Belle had lifted the coffee pot and poured a cup for each of them, loading a tray with sugar, flavored creamers, napkins and cookies that she set on the table so they all might help themselves. "I should probably start by letting you both in on a secret."

"You're pregnant!" Ruby burst out.

Belle rolled her eyes, "No! God, what happened to listening?"

Ruby put up her hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry, I jumped the gun on that one."

"Well, to stop that happening again I'll start by saying that Mr. Gold has never touched me. But we have been seeing each other for over a year." Belle confessed as she added sugar to her cup.

Unbeknownst to Gold, Belle had found two cups from the teaset he'd bought for her in Sunshire. One of them was miraculously undamaged, while he other she kept up in her room. A little longer with some superglue and it could join the other in the cupboard.

Ruby bit her tongue to restrain her shout of surprise.

Snow furrowed her brow, "How've you been dating? No one ever saw you together before."

Belle shook her head, sipping. "No, not dating. We have been friends, though."

"You never said anything."

Belle cleared her throat, readying herself to tell the whole truth.

"When I met him, it was right after the library first opened. He came in for a book and we got to talking. It was only for a few minutes, and at the time I thought he was interesting. I knew who he was, but it'd been the first time I'd ever spoken to him. A few days later he came in again and we talked for a little longer. Mr. Gold tried baiting me about the books at the library, testing to see if I could answer his questions. I had fun with it. We had our own inside game the first time we met. It just grew from there."

Belle sipped at her coffee, a little amused that Ruby and Snow were so focused on her every word.

_Why is our friendship such an impossible thing to them?_

"It went like that between us, but then he mentioned something he had at his shop, and he needed a rare book for research that wasn't even available in the U.S. at the time. I didn't tell him, but I had put in a special order for it and brought the book over to his shop once it arrived. Mr. Gold was just going to pay me for it, but I named my price instead: I wanted to see the piece he was working on." Belle shrugged. "After that, it became our routine that whenever he had something new, some sculpture or piece of artwork, I would go to see it during my lunch break...sometimes he would invite me over to the shop after hours so we wouldn't be pressed for time when he had something new. And sometimes I wouldn't even see anything, I would go over there and bring tea or sodas for us to share. We'd just talk or play games. We even spent a day together in Sunshire a few weeks ago."

Belle smiled down at her chipped teacup the way an engaged woman might look down at her ring. "No one ever knew because we kept our friendship a secret. He doesn't like people knowing much about him, he's told me that before."

Ruby, silent throughout Belle's confession, seemed to suddenly piece things together. "So that's why he acted with you in the kids play, I could never understand how he ended up involved with that."

"It was because I asked him. I still owe him a favor for it."

Ruby bit her tongue to keep from making some smart comment on that; it wasn't Mr. Gold she was insulting anymore, it was Belle's friend. And, as strange as it was to realize, any friend to Belle was a friend to Ruby, which meant that she was now, in a roundabout way, friends with the man.

_Strange world._

Mary-Margaret leaned in even closer, almost afraid she'd miss a detail now. This revelation was just too interesting to her, this friendship that had blossomed without anyone the wiser.

_Impossible!_

"What else?"

Belle shrugged, "Well, there was that time we shared breakfast at Granny's just after the New Year. He'd invited me to make up for disappearing those few weeks in winter."

"I was wondering why you kept asking around about him, I just thought you were short on money."

She shook her head. "No. I was trying to find out if anyone knew where he'd gone. I was worried about him. He'd gone away for nearly a month and I hadn't known anything about it. That morning, I'd found him just after he got back, and he took me to breakfast though he didn't tell me anything about why he'd gone or what he'd been looking for."

"Men. So typical, I guess he is human after all." Ruby shrugged. The way Belle talked about him, this entire situation could almost sound normal, as if she'd been speaking about Marcus or Phillip.

"He's just a man. But he does have a beastly temper. That's why I'm here." Belle shrugged.

"He's using you as a pawn in this head game with the town, Belle!" Ruby said.

"He he didn't give me much of a choice that first night, but he did give me the choice to stay. He regrets it now, but when he tried to take it back, I'd already played into it. And really, gossip has never bothered me."

"I don't know how you can be so calm when you talk about this - if it was me I would've killed Gold the second he came up with this idea. He knew how it would look to everyone else but he just didn't care how it would come back on you! I mean, do you know what people are saying?" Ruby had almost slapped a woman at the diner the other day after overhearing her opinions on Gold's 'little tart'.

"You weren't there that night. You never saw what my father did. I'm not trying to excuse what Mr. Gold did, but it's important that you know he regrets it. He just wanted to keep me, he was never going to hurt me. Once we'd finally talked about it he apologized, several times. He wasn't himself that night. He's made an effort to make up for it." Belle added, thinking of the gifts she'd discovered in her room.

The gifts had been thoughtful, but Belle had been more grateful for the openness they'd shared that week. They had been more honest with each other in the past week than they had in the last year.

"You're seriously all right with everyone thinking the worst? I mean, there're only two versions of the story that anyone will believe - either Gold is forcing you to sleep with him, or you're sleeping with him because you want his money." Ruby insisted.

Belle set down her cup, her irritation showing through. "I know that, and no, I'm not thrilled with it, but you know people would assume the worst no matter what happened. That's why we kept it a secret that we even knew each other. I mean, the first time I had breakfast with him right after we met there were people sticking their noses into it from both sides." Belle shrugged, "But you know what? I think I've grown numb to gossip thanks to my father. I don't care what anyone else thinks of this, but my friends, the people who really know me - I care what _you_ think."

Ruby took a deep breath. "I think...I think you should have said something about this sooner. I think it's strange you made friends with him in the first place, let alone that you actually seem to _like_ staying with him, even knowing what everyone is thinking about this...but you're right, Belle. I can't say that I know him. Hell, he's been a customer at the diner and my grandmother's landlord for as long as I can remember, but I don't know him any better than he knows me."

"Neither do I." Agreed Snow, who had been the quieter of the two. "Belle, if you're sure you can trust him, if you're sure you're safe here...well, we can't ask for more than that."

"Thank you. I do trust him, and I know I'm safe here. If he wants me, he'll show me." Belle said, accidentally letting a bare trace of longing slip into her voice.

"You almost sound..." Ruby's eyes widened in realization, shocked and happy to figure out her friend's best kept secret. "Oh, my God - Belle!"

"What?" Snow asked, still in the dark

Ruby could barely contain her excitement. "You like him!"

Belle took a breath to answer her, but all three of the woman fell silent and turned to face the front of the house on hearing the front door open and swing shut again.

"He's back earlier than I expected." Belle told them quietly. "Stay here."

She left the table to go greet Mr. Gold, some tension stirring inside her. The night before, he had invited Shane and Marcus to join them but this was different. The man might be less than happy to know that Belle had let in two more friends while he'd been away from the house.

Crossing from the kitchen toward the living room, she found the man inside, having just set down a colorful tote bag on the loveseat, and the toddler Belle recognized from his pawn shop was asleep and tucked securely against his chest.

Gold looked up as she stepped closer, and motioned for her silence.

Belle approached him, her voice a whisper. "Mr. Gold, I need to let you know, I've a couple visitors with me in the kitchen."

"Who have you brought here?"

In truth, Gold was only mildly curious. He took it as a sign of progress that Belle would bring visitors to the house; he wanted her to be comfortable here, this was to be her home now.

The man tightened his hold on the toddler, a sly smile quirking his lips. Evening had fallen over Storybrooke, yet it wasn't too late for a bit of fun.

Belle wrung her fingers together, "It's Ruby and Snow, we're just having coffee."

"Ah, it's a gaggle of women, is it?"

"You could say that."

"Do as you like." Gold's attention was more on the child he clutched to his chest. "We're just going to rest in my room for a bit."

Belle nodded, reassured that the surprise visitors hadn't upset him. "Of course, and I'll make sure we keep the noise down for you."

Gold inclined his head and moved toward the back of the house. Belle took a few steps ahead of him to reach the kitchen first. She made a reassuring gesture to her friends at the table, noting the relief on both their faces.

They stood up when Mr. Gold came into the kitchen after Belle.

"Ladies, good evening." He greeted them, his voice low.

"Hi." Ruby greeted, her eyes fixed on him for anything suspicious in his behavior.

Snow was watching him as well, but her greeting was polite enough. "Hello, Mr. Gold."

Ruby relaxed a shade as she noticed how at ease Belle was. Her friend didn't seem surprised at all that the man was carrying a child, which was just about the last thing Ruby or Snow had expected to see tonight.

But, in a show of effort to her friend, Ruby approached him with a smile. If Belle had found enough reason to look past the gossip and see the man, then why shouldn't she?

"Who is that, Mr. Gold? She's adorable." Ruby said, reaching forward to stroke a chubby little thigh.

He hummed lowly when the baby opened her eyes and lifted her head to take in the new faces in his house. As she had when she'd first seen Belle, she burrowed her head into his chest to hide.

"She is the daughter of a man who cannot pay his bills. Do you know what that makes her?"

Gold looked at their expectant faces.

"Mine."

Ruby drew back from him and Mary-Margaret audibly gasped from where she stood at the table. Belle rolled her eyes.

Gold stroked the child's back as she stirred, settling her. "I think I'll name her...Collateral."

At their horrified looks, Gold tossed them a smile and disappeared into his room.

"He's joking." Belle said, turning to her friends the second he'd shut the door. "I'm almost sure he's joking."


	22. Red, White & Blue

Still smiling to himself at the shock coloring the women's faces in the kitchen, Gold shut his bedroom door and settled the toddler down on his bed. He left her there atop the covers. She murmured some, but stayed asleep for him as he moved about his bedroom.

His Saturday had been busy, even before he'd made the trip to Sunshire to take the child from Jefferson. The young father had landed an interview with some designer down in sunny Miami. The man couldn't deny Jefferson's talent was destined for greater things than an upscale tailor shop, yet he loathed the idea of losing him to such a distance.

Gold took in a breath as he moved to the closet, hanging up his suit jacket and removing his tie as well. It was not often that he could be found out of his suits; his wardrobe was all part of being _Mr. Gold._ The image he'd built over the years was of a man who was always professional, remote, the formality of his wardrobe meant to intimidate any potential client who had it in their mind to try anything sly. Mr. Gold could not be tricked, cheated or outmaneuvered.

Jefferson was the man behind Mr. Gold's attire.

He had spent years in Mr. Gold's employ, from when he'd just been an apprentice working at his father's tailor shop in high school up to now. Jefferson had taken over operations after his father's retirement, and taken over the personal attention paid to the shop's top three clients: Mr. Howard and Mr. Green of Sunshire, and Mr. Gold of Storybrooke. While the first two men were loyal clients that he'd more or less inherited from his father, Mr. Gold was a client who had become a trusted friend.

Outside of knowing Mr. Gold's preferences in color, pattern, the cut of his jackets, the width of his ties and the size of his cufflinks, Gold had bestowed fatherly wisdom upon him and been eternally valuable for his help with Grace.

As to his wardrobe and what it said about a man, Jefferson had once told Gold that he never would have trusted him with his daughter if he had been the type who preferred knotted leather links.

Gold had never asked after the comment, taking his trust for what it was.

Watching the toddler's deep breathing, Gold grumbled the truth to himself, that he would miss them if Jefferson were to leave Maine. The selfish part of him hoped the young tailor would be rejected, keeping the little family right where Gold wanted them: close.

The man leaned his cane against the nightstand before moving to recline comfortably atop his bed, content for a bit of down time.

The baby slept at his side and Belle had friends to entertain.

Distantly, Gold realized that as the sole male in the house, he was outnumbered and would be overtaken if the women were to conspire a mutiny against him.

Turning on the bedroom television, the volume was kept low. He didn't worry about waking Grace; with time he'd learned that she was a solid little sleeper.

Gold reached over and stroked a fingertip down her arm, marveling at the softness of the baby's skin. So unlike his own. He looked at his hands; mostly smooth skin, gently aging. Skilled and strong. Long fingers, short nails. Some fingers had the odd scar. Others with calluses earned from his work. A finger on his right hand had been broken in a fight when he'd been in his teens, it'd healed well enough in the decades since but every once in awhile he'd have a flash of phantom pain.

Well.

No one stayed untouched forever.

_Only the forever innocent._

A flash of pain. No phantom, this time.

The man shifted back on his bed, sitting up with several pillows propped behind his back as he leaned against the headboard. He stretched out comfortably, put his hands behind his head and thought of his body. His limp was a defining characteristic - the one piece of his past that he couldn't hide from others or from himself.

Of course, there was no way to hide the healing cut on his lip. It was deep. It would scar.

Gold could tell. He knew all about scars.

Soon, he would have a new, constant reminder of the night Moe French had breached his home and he'd taken Belle as his prize. The scar would be a small mar on a face he was content enough with, so he did not mind. With hardly a thought, Gold flicked his tongue and licked at the cut.

He settled back, resting his eyes for a moment before opening them again to scroll through the television.

News. Comedy. Drama. Documentary. Network film. American football. Brazilian soccer. Cooking feature. Infomercial.

_Hundreds of channels and nothing to watch._

He thought of lifting Belle's Netflix information so that he might watch House of Cards in his room.

Grace made a strange little sound, shifting on the bed beside him. Gold reached to rest his hand over her back, settling her as she slept.

All was fine, until the erratic _creaks_ began over his head, drawing his attention. Gold sat up and muted the television. He strained his ears, until all he could hear was the child's deep breathing and his own, almost lost in the creaks moving about overhead.

Three sets of footsteps.

Ruby, Snow and Belle had moved on from the kitchen, to her bedroom.

Storybrooke's living trio of red, white and blue were upstairs.

Likely the women wanted to see the room he'd given over to Belle, maybe reassure themselves that he wasn't forcing her to sleep in some cage he kept in the basement. No, the woman had the house's master bedroom to herself, and Gold had been happy to be rid of it. Until Belle had come into his home, he hadn't set foot in that room for years. There had not been the need nor the desire.

Would Belle tell Miss Blanchard and Miss Lucas of the gifts he'd given? The stained glass he'd had installed for her, the chic clothing and shoes?

Would her friends see the gifts for what they were as easily as Belle had?

The man strained his ears, hoping to catch some bit of their conversation, but gave up after a minute. Yes, he could hear their voices, but the sounds were so muffled that he couldn't make out more than a few words or even tell who was speaking. It was like trying to make sense of words spoken under water.

 _Even I'm not that good,_ Gold conceded to himself.

The man shook his head, dismissing the idea to listen in on them. He returned his attention to the television and the toddler sleeping at his side.

They were a gaggle of women, would could they have to say that would be of any interest to him?

_______________________________

After Mr. Gold had stolen away into his room with baby Collateral, Belle had lead her friends upstairs to let them see the bedroom the man had provided her. She had wanted to reassure them of the sleeping arrangements, and perhaps show off a bit. She had had so little to brag about throughout her life, so what was the harm?

"Whoa, this is your room?"

"Belle, it's gorgeous!"

Belle couldn't stop her smile as she closed the door behind Ruby and Snow. Watching them explore the space, Belle took a moment to look at it herself. Just a week ago she had slept under Mr. Gold's roof for the very first time and been beyond impressed with everything she saw. The soft shade of the walls, the large bed that dominated the space, the desk set and window bench, the view, the spacious bathroom and closet. This room was familiar to her now, though she knew all too well not to get attached. The room wasn't hers, it was only hers for now. She was only here for as long as Mr. Gold wanted to keep up appearances.

The room was darker thanks to the storm brewing overhead, the scene from the stained glass wasn't showing the way it would have had the sun been shining through the cheery colors. Ruby stepped into the bathroom, glad to see that Belle had her makeup on the counter there - she still didn't approve of Gold's keeping her, but at least the man had given Belle her own space.

Snow touched the covers of the bed, impressed with the quality. Feeling foolish now, she'd pictured Mr. Gold making Belle sleep on a cot or in some dank crawlspace of his house. Neither she nor Ruby had pictured Belle having such a grand room to herself.

As Snow moved to look at the desk and the older novels shelved atop it, Ruby had moved out of the bathroom to check the closet, exclaiming at the clothing she found there. "Belle, whose clothes are these? Is this - No, no! Reiss?!" Ruby shrieked as she took a skirt off its hanger to double-check the label. She stuck her head out into the main bedroom, her voice growing more and more excited. "He didn't! Belle, tell me he didn't!"

"He did."

"I can't believe this!" Ruby screeched, hanging the skirt back on the rod. She felt dumbfounded. Was she in a different universe? It had to be. She was standing in some bizarre alternate reality where Gold - _Mr. Gold,_ for Christ's sake! - had kidnapped Belle and showered her with gifts of couture.

"I told him I wouldn't wear any of it."

"If you won't, I will." Ruby bent down to the shoeboxes on the floor. _"Louboutins?!_ Are you kidding me? There has to be three grand worth of shoes in here!"

"Oh, let me see!" Snow moved into the closet to go through the boxes beside her friend. "Belle, you don't want these?"

"I told him I wouldn't wear any of it, not that I didn't _want_ to." Belle said. "I've tried on the heels a few times already. It gets harder and harder to put them back. Snow, try on the stilettos."

"God, these are beautiful." Snow said as she crouched beside Ruby to lift a pair from its box. "Why haven't you worn any of this?"

"I just didn't want to make things so obvious. They're wonderful gifts but I didn't want to play into his 'kept woman' scenario. It would take things too far. He seemed to understand."

"You mean he bought you all this just to boost his little show of power? Hell, I'll move in so long as he keeps his hands to himself."

Ruby couldn't take it anymore, looking at the chic clothing. She had devoured fashion magazines since she was fourteen, but what small-town waitress could afford anything in those pages? So strange now that Belle, who had never had the interest in or the money for such things, she now boasted a closet full of designer labels. None of which would be worn outside of his house.

"He always has."

"And you're not happy about that. You actually _want_ this affair he's invented." Ruby said as she crossed the room and flopped back onto Belle's bed. She smoothed her hands over the comforter and the faux throw; its silvery fur made her think of wild timberwolves.

"I told you once and I'll tell you again, there is no affair. And keep your voice down, he might hear you!" Belle whispered frantically.

"He can't hear us up here, can he?" Asked Snow. Their more demure friend was looking less than her usual sweet self as she walked about the room in the killer black stilettos that Mr. Gold had intended for Belle, just one pair of the pile. Snow may never be close with him, but good God, the man had taste!

"I don't know for sure." Belle admitted. She watched Snow strut in the heels, admiring the sudden sexiness in her friend. "I just don't want to risk it. If we're going to talk about this could we please not do it when he's only a floor below us?"

"This room is right over his?" The words _how convenient_ were just on the tip of Ruby's tongue but she restrained herself.

"Can't you tell us a little bit?" Urged Mary-Margaret as she sat on Belle's bed next to Ruby. She might not be as insistent as the other woman, but she was just as curious.

"I don't know if I should tell you, Snow." Belle scoffed as she moved to straddle the desk chair, facing them. "You can't keep a secret to save your life."

"Hey!"

Belle caught the pillow Snow tossed at her and threw it back onto the bed.

"Don't get mad, Belle's right." Ruby chided her. "But she should tell _me_ everything, then at least she'll know her secret is safe. Why was this all such a big secret in the first place? You could have said something."

"Oh, I don't know. It just started so harmlessly. It was almost like a joke we were playing on the town. Monstrous Mr. Gold and the sweet librarian, meeting in secret to talk about art and play checkers." Belle shrugged and smiled, feeling ridiculous now that she had to put into words why they had kept their friendship under wraps.

Snow rolled her eyes. "Ha, ha, so glad we were your punch lines."

"All I can say is...nothing has happened between us yet, and we've never talked about taking this further. It's been this slow change from just friends to, well, whatever you could call us now. But I know the feeling is there."

Ruby and Snow shared a quick, knowing glance. For all Belle's paranoia of being overheard, it wouldn't be hard to get all the details from her now that she finally had the clearance to share about her connection with the man. How she'd kept it a secret this long, they weren't sure. Belle was usually open about her life, save for the darker issues surrounding her parents.

"How do you know that?"

"He's told me I might know him better than anyone. And before this, he always seemed to enjoy having me for company at his shop and even if he didn't like me coming to visit then he would have avoided the library, wouldn't he? But he always came to see me and sometimes he would bring me coffee or tea. He's drawn my picture, bought me things, we've flirted a bit-"

"Mr. Gold can flirt?"

"-and he let me stay here."

Snow furrowed her brows. "What do you mean, he let you? You said he made your staying here the condition in a deal to keep your father safe."

"No, no. This was before."

"Wait, you mean you've spent the night here before?" Ruby asked.

"It was the night before we went to the Rabbit Hole, the day before all this started."

"Why?"

"Dad was hosting poker night, I didn't want to be recruited as the designated driver for his friends or enlisted to make beer runs. Plus, you know the people he picks up at those dive bars on the docks. I couldn't stand risking a repeat of what happened last time."

Ruby felt a rise of fury for her friend, as did Snow. They remembered what had happened to her all too well.

"I'd stayed in the shop with Mr. Gold longer than I meant to, and he drove me home. Once I realized that dad had his friends over, I asked if I could stay with him and he allowed it. Mr. Gold wouldn't do all of this unless he cared. I just want to hear him say it. And once he does..."

"So if the mood is right, you and he would...?" Snow raised a brow, not needing words to finish the rest.

Belle shook her head. "I wouldn't let it go that far. Not at first. I'd need to know that it would mean something, that I wouldn't be some casual fling for him."

"Yeah, because he looks like the wild fling type." Ruby drawled. "I think you're safe there."

"Things have changed a lot in the last few months, it's not as simple as when I would just visit him to look at some artwork or a relic. It never will be again, we've come too far to go back to that now. There have been a lot of near misses." Belle confided to them, and thought of their day in Sunshire. She knew he would have kissed her if Marcus hadn't interrupted them to show off his finished car. "At first I thought that's why he brought me here, just for sex. It scared me, thinking he would try to use me that way. I refused."

"What did he say?" Ruby asked, leaning in.

"He told me that that wasn't why he wanted me to stay, and then he just avoided me until we had that talk a couple days later. We're friendly again, and though we can't go back to the way things were after this...maybe in time we can be more..."

"God, Belle it's just so weird to hear you talk this way about Mr. Gold!" Ruby laughed as she flopped back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. "You really can't appreciate how crazy this sounds!"

"Why?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, you know why! It was enough to find out you've been friends with him since the library opened, but now you're half in love and you think, what? He wants the same thing, maybe?"

"He's...he can be so difficult to read." Belle admitted.

"And here we thought you were the top reader in town." Snow chided her.

"Books are easier than people." Belle tucked a curl behind her ear. "Sometimes I think it's too late, that I missed my chance with him."

"What do you mean?"

"I just...he didn't know dad and I were related until just this spring. I never wanted to tell him, but I knew I couldn't keep it a secret forever." Belle sighed. "Then this mess happened. I feel like we grew closer when we had that talk earlier this week. We said things we've never said before, we hugged each other, we-"

"Kissed?" Ruby asked.

"I wish." Belle smiled. "He's only ever kissed my hand."

"God, could he be any more old-school?"

"I worry that the potential we had before all this is gone." Belle confessed.

"Why would it be?"

"I don't know. It really felt like we were almost there, you know? If I had to pin it down, then I think things started to grow deeper between us this spring. I invited him up to my apartment the night of the blackout, and we spent most of the night together on the sofa. I...might have pretended to be cold to get him to hold me. Ahem." Belle smiled, not a trace of guilt in confessing the white lie. "Then we had our day in Sunshire and then there was this thing he did when I tried on a necklace. I know he was going to invite me to visit the house, and being alone here, who knows what might have happened? But then dad threw a wrench into everything we had. He ruins _everything."_ Belle scowled, her voice immediately bitter at the mention of her father.

"Oh, Belle. If you and Mr. Gold truly care about each other, then Moe hasn't put an end to anything." Snow soothed, touching her hand. "You're living with him now, your father can't ruin what you have with each other from the outside."

"She's right. And Belle, Mr. Gold is a man." Ruby said, looking at her nails. "If he thinks you're ready, he'll make his move."

And with that, Ruby and Snow were left to wonder what Gold making a move might look like.

It wasn't that they found the man so unattractive or even that they were intimidated by him; if Ruby had to really think on it, then it was Mr. Gold's _manners_ , the professional distance he kept from others, that made it so difficult to see him in a passionate light. Really, it was a struggle for her to picture him as being capable of anything more than a quick peck on the lips.

Anything else - fierce kissing, bold hands on the flesh, carnal sex - seemed far too undignified for the formal Mr. Gold.

"Ugh. Sometimes I want to blurt out how I feel just to see what he'd do." Belle laughed. "I'll be daydreaming at work and picture myself running over to his shop and jumping over the counter to kiss him."

"Oh, my God, this is eating you alive, I can see it! Belle, I'm going to go downstairs right now and tell him everything. I bet you $20 he drops his cane and runs up here to get to you."

Belle was out of the chair and in Ruby's face in the space of a second. "Don't even think about saying a word to him. I'd kill you all kinds of dead."

Ruby Lucas, the alpha, didn't blink in the face of Belle's threat of death.

"We won't say anything. But if Mr. Gold knew you wanted to be more than friends, what do you think he would do? You said something about what he did with a necklace?" Snow reminded her. She shared Ruby's sense of disbelief, but Belle knew the man better than they ever could.

"Its nothing, really. Earlier this summer, he convinced me to try on this necklace at the shop. He put it on me and then, instead of stepping back, he just...I don't know, he had his hands on my shoulders and he started touching me, like this." Here Belle moved up behind Snow and reenacted the scene for them, standing in for Mr. Gold herself. "We were looking at each other in the mirror...he didn't actually _do_ anything, really, but it was in the way he was looking at me and the way the air changed between us...it was just so..."

"Hot?"

"Yes!"

"Look at you, you're blushing red just from the memory. Must've been one hell of a rubdown." Ruby teased.

"It was. I would have let him kiss me if he'd tried. I might have let him do anything!" She told them, so relieved to get these secret encounters out into the open. "It was exciting and intense, but it was overwhelming at the same time. I scared myself out of the moment, practically ran away from him just to get a grip."

"Mr. Gold, primed and ready for action. God, what does that even look like? I mean, I guess he does have a kind of Old World charisma to him. Maybe it's the accent, maybe it's the suits. The money doesn't hurt his appeal, either - but he's your guy, not mine." Ruby held up her hands, warding off Belle's jealous look. "So what are you going to do?"

"Have you tried anything?" Snow asked. "You can't keep staying here with this tension between you, it'll drive you both crazy."

"What can I do?" Belle shrugged. "I can't just climb into bed with him."

"Of course you can! He's a man, what's he going to do? Say no?" Ruby scoffed at the idea - it was absurd. "On what planet would a man refuse you if you snuck into his room to surprise him? You're just being a chicken, Belle, and so is he. All this walking on eggshells, you've got to be exhausted."

Belle put her head in her hands. "You don't know the half of it."

_______________________________

Gold turned around to greet the gaggle as they descended the stairs to the kitchen, earning him a displeased squeal from the toddler in his lap. Grace hated it when his attention wasn't solely on her, tiny master of the universe.

"Hello ladies."

"Hello again, Mr. Gold. And hello little Miss Collateral." Snow said as she approached them, feeling much less intimidated than she had when she and Ruby had first come to the house, unsure whether or not it would be him who answered the door. After everything Belle had told them, she saw the man in an entirely new light. Of course, it was difficult to find anything threatening about Mr. Gold after coming into the kitchen to find him feeding the toddler plain Cheerios and apple slices.

Gold sat at the table with baby Grace sitting on his good leg, her eyes suspicious of the strange women, and she shifted even closer to the man.

"What are you two up to?" Belle asked.

Mr. Gold handed a piece of apple to the baby, and shrugged lightly. "It's lady's choice, and she's been inside for too long. Grace and I were just going to step into the backyard if you'd care to join us."

With nothing else to do, Belle, Ruby and Snow shrugged to each other, silent in agreeing to follow Mr. Gold on out to the backyard, the toddler never more than a foot away from him. Had she been alone with Mr. Gold and the baby, Belle would have gone with them to let the child become more accustomed to her. With Ruby and Snow in the house, Belle hoped to let them see Mr. Gold's hidden truths in action.

The five made their slow way out of the house.

Outside the air was still heavy and summer humid, but a cooler breeze had picked up thanks to the storm simmering above their heads. It would break soon, they could smell the rain coming.

Ruby and Snow shared yet another impressed look after stepping into the back. It was spacious and very colorful; two trees stretched tall above them, manicured flower beds and fine hedge bushes lined the yard. As Mr. Gold lead the baby into the grass, Belle, Ruby and Snow remained on the deck to watch.

Mr. Gold lead the way, with Grace clinging to one of his fingers. He paused in the middle of the yard, and she paused with him. He pulled his hand from hers, and Gold used his cane to nudge her diapered bottom, gently pushing her forward so that she might explore a bit.

The women sat at the patio table, quietly watching.

Grace babbled happily at Gold, pointing at the flowers and the trees in the yard. She bounced before the man, excited to be outside, and crammed a hand into her mouth, drooling all over it. Gold bent down to kneel in the grass beside her, leaning heavily on his cane with the change of position, but he was smiling, clearly happy to be spending time with the toddler.

To Belle it seemed that the man and baby were having a true conversation, and maybe they were, in their own way. By his word, Mr. Gold had been caring for this child for months, clearly there was a bond of trust here.

He crouched down to accept the gift of a stone Grace had just found in the grass and, after finding she didn't care for the taste, passed it over to him. "Why, thank you."

"Go." Grace addressed him, pointing at a starling that had landed near the fence.

"Bird." Gold told her.

Grace was too young to speak, but Gold knew her young mind was constantly learning. The child could communicate perfectly well, it was only that her mouth hadn't yet matured to form the words.

"Ba-ba-ba." She said, smiling in triumph.

"Close enough, love." He reassured her. "You see that tall thing, there?" He asked, pointing to the nearest tree. "It's a tree."

"Eee."

"Want to play ball?" He asked, and moved to retrieve a soft rubber ball from the grass near a decorative stone bench. Carefully, Gold guided the ball with his cane, rolling it to her.

The ball bumped up against her knees and she picked it up, throwing it back at him, squealing happily.

Ruby and Snow watched the man and baby play, sending the ball back and forth to each other over the cool grass. Belle couldn't take her eyes from the scene. The comfort that the child sought from Mr. Gold, the ease with which he cared for her...Belle knew the baby wasn't his, but it was almost as if...

"This is weirdly cute." Ruby told them quietly. "It's like those animal videos you see online, like when a crocodile is friends with a kitten or something. I should record this on my cell and put it on YouTube because one will believe me if I told them."

"I never would have thought he could be so different from who I thought he was." Snow agreed. "I mean, him being nicer than we thought isn't so crazy, but _this?_ No one ever even sees him with kids, except for Henry. Belle, whose baby is that? I mean, is that his daughter? Who's her mother?"

Belle shook her head. "No, no. I actually asked him the same thing when I first saw her in his shop. He watches her for some friend of his in Sunshire. I never officially met her father, and I don't know anything about the mom. But she's not his daughter."

"Gold already has one mystery kid, he probably wants to keep it that way."

"Mystery kid? You mean Henry." Belle said, voicing a suspicion of her own.

The three women glanced over to the yard, making sure Mr. Gold's attention was on the toddler and that he was still well out of earshot.

"Yes, he's the only child that Mr. Gold is ever seen with. Sometimes he'll walk Henry to school, or he'll be the one to walk him home. I spoke to Henry when Madame Mayor came to enroll him for the new school year, and he got so excited, he started telling me all about how he and Mr. Gold spent a few days in his cabin. They went fishing and hiking, he'd even taught him how to set rabbit snares..."

"A real father/son weekend, huh? Gold has brought Henry to the diner a few times, and I've seen them together around town, walking down at the pier, going in and out of the mayoral house. You know what, I bet he and the mayor had an affair, Henry was what came of that, but then something went wrong between Gold and Regina and that's why they hate each other but behave themselves whenever Henry is around."

"Rumors, Ruby." Snow shook her head, "I think after today we need to stop feeding the gossip."

"All right, all right. I guess if Gold has any mystery kids running around town, he'd tell Belle before he told anyone else."

"He's already told me that he never had a daughter."

"Yes, but what about a son?"

Belle would have answered the truth, that she had never thought to ask the man, but the storm interrupted her.

Just as baby Grace tossed the ball back in Gold's direction again, a great _crack_ of thunder sounded overhead. The sound startled everyone in the yard but sent only one of them into tears. Grace began to cry, and lifted her arms to Gold. The man was swift, rushing to lift her up and turning to the audience of women on the patio.

The storm had finally broken.

Before Gold had even made it across the yard, rain had begun to fall. Big fat drops that speckled his shirt, clinging to his hair. Grace's little curls were wet as well.

They all trooped back into the house, and Ruby jingled her keys. "I think it's time we head out."

"It was lovely to have you visit." Gold said politely to Ruby and Snow. "I'll see you about town, but if you'll excuse me." The baby had begun wailing now, and Gold shuffled off back to his bedroom.

The women watched him go, and turned toward the front of the house to leave, the visit having been eye-opening in so many ways.

"He's not what you thought, is he?" Belle asked.

Snow shook her head. "No. He's actually...kind of...nice, I guess. Once you get past the kidnapping, I mean."

The trio shared a soft laugh at that.

"Maybe he's not so bad," Ruby relented. "I still think he's a bastard for dragging you through the mud just to make a point, mind you, but maybe he's not the biggest bastard in town. He's still in the Top 5, though."

Considering what she'd been warning Belle against the night before, this was remarkable progress.

After Belle promised to visit with them during the week, Ruby and Snow rushed through the rain to her car, and within moments Belle was back in the house as the tail lights faded down the street.

Belle walked back through the house to Mr. Gold's room. She'd never seen it before, and though he had left the door open she did not put a toe over the threshold. She would pay him the same respect he paid to her space, and enter only if invited.

His room was smaller than she'd imagined it would be. It was a purely masculine room, all dark wood furniture and wainscotting that matched the rest of the house, deep hunter green walls and a burgundy rug that stretched to all edges of the bedroom, almost overtaking the floor beneath it.

The man was reclining back on his bed, leaning up against the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles. He'd shed his shoes, revealing striped socks, and unbuttoned his collared shirt, revealing the plain black undershirt he had on beneath it. Belle registered that this was the most relaxed and most undressed she'd ever seen him. The man seemed more in his element now than he ever had at his shop, fully suited, a mask of indifference dulling his gaze. The baby was sitting on the bed in a similar position, leaning back against Mr. Gold's torso and facing Belle as she drank from a bottle he held to her lips. His free hand was occupied in scrolling through his cell phone.

"Collateral?"

"What, they didn't like the joke?" He asked with a soft smile, not looking up from his cell.

Belle crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. "Took me a little while to convince them you weren't serious."

"That remains to be seen." Gold looked down to the baby to see she'd already drank half the bottle. Good. She would sleep through the night, then. Grace reached a tiny hand to his wrist, pulling at the strap of his watch.

"She's sweet enough, I still might keep her."

"You will not."

"I might."

"I doubt it."

"You don't know me."

"Yes I do. You said I know you better than almost anyone."

"Then you know I have a habit of collecting pretty girls."

Belle laughed and shook her head at him. "I'll talk to you later, Mr. Gold."

She turned, intending to go up to her room for awhile and then come back down after he had put the baby down for the night. Rather than take turns making dinner, perhaps tonight they could make a meal together.

"Wait! Miss French?"

Belle turned back to look in the room. "Hmm?"

Gold had sat up, shifting the child to lay back against the pillow in the center of the bed rather than against him. Grace was already yawning, her eyes heavy.

"I...may I use your Netflix?"

"Oh, sure. It's no problem." Belle crossed the threshold into his bedroom, taking the remote control he held out to her. She took it and began to type in her password. "What're you trying to watch?"

"House of Cards. I love political dramas. I don't have Netflix myself, and I wouldn't ask, but the new season has started..." He trailed off, almost sheepish now.

"And you're as addicted as I am." Belle said, smiling to him. "I had no idea you liked that show, it's one of my favorites."

"Ah. And are you all caught up?"

Belle shook her head, scrolling through the program menu until she saw the listing. "I'm a few episodes behind since I haven't been at home to watch it."

Making her selection, Belle handed the remote back to him, startled to turn and find that he'd moved on the bed, shifting closer to her at the foot. He took back the remote and then asked, "Would you care to watch with me?"

He was, quite literally, inviting her into bed with him. This wasn't what Belle pictured for the first time she laid down with the man, but she wouldn't refuse him now. She felt no nerves, no worry at sharing space with him here. Mr. Gold wouldn't hurt her, and she knew he wouldn't try anything with the baby nestled between them. _Pity._

Grace would act as a security barrier, stripping any tension they might have felt simply by being there. Belle scooted back, taking a position similar to his by leaning back against the pillows at the headboard, sitting up but still reclined.

Gold glanced at Belle out of the corner of his eye as the program began to play. The dramatized intrigue of American politics had no interest to him now. Not with Belle here. Thunder cracked across the sky above them again, and rain pelted harder against the windows. The man hadn't planned on inviting her to watch with him, the words had jumped from him before he could think any better of it.

But, she'd surprised him, as she had never ceased to do since their first meeting.

Belle had accepted the invitation to rest in his bed with him and the child.

It was a semblance of family, and brought him back decades.

One of the soft, simple pleasures that he had forgotten in his years of being alone.

________________________________

Belle woke up at the feel of _something_ grasping at her arm. Her eyes snapped open and her body jerked, but sense returned as memory rushed back at her. She had fallen asleep in Mr. Gold's bed. He was there, just over two feet away, asleep as well. The baby, Grace, she was awake, her tiny hands pulling at Belle's hand. The television was still on, and had been for hours, as the last several episodes of House of Cards had run through to the end of the season.

The baby began to fuss, and Belle made a decision.

Quickly, she scooped the baby up and carried her from the room, leaving the man to sleep. Grace fussed a bit more, but Belle ignored it as she shuffled into the still bare living room, finding the diaper bag she'd seen Mr. Gold leave on the sofa earlier that afternoon.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Let me take care of you, all right? I'll do this and then maybe you won't be so jealous." Belle teased the baby as she laid out a changing towel and then laid her atop it. The baby's jealousy was cute to see - the child had no sense to hide her emotions, and so Belle knew _exactly_ what Grace thought of her, which wasn't much. Belle knew she'd be jealous too if she wanted to keep Mr. Gold's attention, only to find he had a new woman in his life.

Even now, the baby was scowling at her, though she hadn't decided to start screaming just to be difficult.

Not yet, anyway.

"Go! Go!"

"No, no, honey, he's still asleep. Just let me do it this time, all right? You can see him in the morning, I promise."

Belle hadn't much experience, but she wasn't useless in this area either, and made quick work of changing Grace's diaper. She cleaned the baby, powdering her so that she would stay dry and fresh for the rest of the night.

"There, that's better isn't it? I bet you feel so nice and clean now." Belle cooed at her. She taped up the new diaper at Grace's hips and put everything back into the tote. The baby moved to sit up, just staring at her. "Now, what to do with you..."

Belle considered taking the baby with her to her room upstairs but scrapped the idea. Mr. Gold might wake up and panic to find them both gone, but beyond that, Belle wanted to return to him. Hang the rules of boundaries, Mr. Gold had been the one to cross the line there. First by having her stay in his house and then just hours before by inviting her into his bed, never mind how innocent it had been with the child sleeping between them.

Grace's fussing had settled and she yawned, staring at Belle with her wide baby eyes. The tension in the child had relaxed, and as Belle held her close to carry her back to the bedroom, Grace's little arms lifted to grasp Belle about the neck.

After a quick stop to dispose of the soiled diaper, Belle returned to the bedroom, carefully laying on her side and settling the baby to her right rather than in between Mr. Gold and herself. The man hadn't moved much since she'd woken up only minutes ago, and she was grateful that she wouldn't have to awkwardly explain why she was climbing back into bed with him rather than going to her own room, as would have been the proper, much more appropriate thing to do.

Grace was blinking slowly, falling back to sleep as Belle watched. Her tiny hand kept a strong hold on Belle's forefinger.

Belle settled onto her side near the toddler, wondering if she would sleep like this beside her own child someday.

The woman tucked her arm under the pillow beneath her head, simply looking at the tiny girl. She loved children, she had grown to look forward to their bright presence in the library, always so curious, always so excited. It made her feel important when she provided books aligning with their interests; Mary-Margaret had told her that several of the students had shown improved grades after the classes had begun weekly visits to the library. Belle had been absurdly pleased when she'd heard that.

But children of her own?

Belle would love it, but there were many obstacles in the way to that end. She needed stability first, to be secure in her place at the library. She didn't want a baby so desperately that she would get pregnant just to raise the child alone; she wanted to be a lover and wife before she ever became a mother.

_Someday._

Mr. Gold rolled over beside her in his sleep, the man's silent response to the pang of longing that echoed through her just then. He moved onto his side, reaching. Belle tensed as his hand smoothed up over her shoulderblade, and then down, over the rise of her left breast and still lower, his palm finally settling to rest on the soft curve of her belly, just over her womb, his forearm resting across the dip in her waist. During his exploration of her body, Belle had held her breath, pulse pounding, unsure if he was awake, unsure of everything now.

"Hmmm. Bae all right?" Gold asked.

His voice was a low rumble against the back of her neck and Belle couldn't fight the wave of gooseflesh that erupted over her skin. Belle might be the only woman in the world who had ever heard his voice this way, vulnerable and gravelly, suspended somewhere between dreams and the waking world.

Behind her, Gold hummed softly, then pressed his lips tenderly against her neck. Belle felt heat rise thought her chest and over her throat and cheeks, her stomach twisting madly. She needed to wake him up, needed to stop him, but damn if that was what she truly wanted.

Belle bit her lip, fighting the sudden impulse to roll toward him, to wake him by straddling his hips and forcing an end to this, their polite dance of flirting and friendship.

_No._

Not now, not with a baby in their bed.

"She's fine." Belle said softly. And she couldn't help herself, she put her hand over his, lacing their fingers. She should move, pull away to retire to the room upstairs. Instead, she shifted closer, spooning her back up against his front, letting him warm her. "Go back to sleep."

The man murmured something else, but his accent, thicker now, made it difficult to understand him.

Belle could barely understand herself.


	23. Scheme

This mishmash of a family, sharing a bed and a home but none of them belonging to one another, slept on. Or, in Belle's case, tried to.

Absently, she stroked Mr. Gold's hand where it rested on her tummy, just listening to the rhythm of his breath, content in the warmth of his body pressed back against her.

They laid like lovers now, and she smiled in remembering her flighty talk with Snow and Ruby just scant hours ago. Belle had declared that she could not climb into bed with Mr. Gold. One hour after her friends had departed the house had found Belle doing exactly that.

Defiance of self-fulfilling prophecy, she supposed.

It had been innocent, they'd only fallen asleep together. There had been no trickery, no manipulation. Just two people on a comfortable bed with rain pelting the windows. It could have happened to anyone. But Mr. Gold's slumberous advances were anything but innocent. In sleep his hand had wandered her body, pulling her closer, his teeth had even once grazed the back of her neck.

Even now, Belle could feel him pressing against her, whatever dream he was having driving his hips in a gentle rocking motion. Belle wasn't offended by this, it was natural. She knew men could sometimes act on their urges when asleep. The night she'd last shared her bed with Shane, he had done much the same in nuzzling against her until he'd woken up to realize where he was.

Strange animals, these men of Earth.

And Mr. Gold was no different.

Belle wondered if he was thinking of her or remembering his wife, that mysterious woman he'd politely forbidden her to ask after. With regret, she had to admit that that was more likely. He could be missing her, and had mistaken Belle for her in the bed.

Belle opened her eyes, thinking on that.

What had happened to the woman? Was Mr. Gold a widower or a divorcee?

Despite everything he'd shared of his home with Belle so far, he was intensely private when it came to his past.

Mr. Gold murmured something into the nape of her neck, and Belle decided that it didn't matter. His past, their future...no, she was warm, protected, wholly content.

For now, Belle would shamelessly enjoy the sleepy attentions she believed were meant for another woman.

_________________________________

Mr. Gold had settled behind the woman, his body stilled some time ago. His face was resting behind her neck, and Belle had chosen not to move.

She did not sleep, but her mind went off to wander miles into dreaming fantasy. It was no Mr. Gold as she knew him holding her now, but Mr. Gold as her lover or husband. They were no longer fully clothed, but naked and sated from passionate, celebratory sex. He had fed her flames and then gentled her to sleep, some dark hero from those god-awful romance novels she'd let herself become addicted to-

_Stop. Focus on what's real._

The heat that had been simmering through her body since Mr. Gold had first reached for her was throbbing through her blood. Belle wanted this man, she wanted him to make her his, but rolling over and pouncing while he was asleep and with Grace just there, was not her best idea.

As Ruby would say, there is a fine line between kink and creep.

Belle sighed, looking at the baby who slept so deeply just next to her.

For a moment, she wished Grace would vanish so that Belle could wake the man and make the night more interesting.

Suddenly, Belle felt it.

Shifting movement behind her, an interruption to the soft, hot breaths against her neck. A rough "Oh!" of surprise.

Mr. Gold had woken up.

Belle waited.

She felt him shift up onto his elbow, could feel him looking down at her. A soft whisper. "Belle."

She felt him touch her hair, just a soft stroke of his hand, petting her, and then he shifted off the bed. Belle listened to his shuffling limp as he moved across the room. He was so quiet, clearly he thought she was asleep and determined not to wake her.

Belle watched him through the darkness as he moved into his closet and flicked on the dim light. He slipped out of his collared shirt, letting it rest on the floor. As quickly as he was able, he took off his suit trousers and replaced them with lounge pants. Belle watched, more to observe than to ogle. In silhouette she could see nothing of his body or the injury to his leg.

He reached into a shelf and took an extra pillow and blanket.

He was leaving.

_Not this time._

Where the bravery came from, Belle never knew. She just did the brave thing first.

As he'd turned off the light, Belle sat up on his bed, facing him fully. The room descended into darkness.

"Mr. Gold."

She saw him freeze, his posture went rigid. "Miss French."

They stared at each other in the dark.

"Come back to bed."

Belle said no more to the man. She would not repeat herself, she would not beg.

The woman moved to lay back down again, her invitation plain.

Silence.

Then, she smiled, because she heard him move away from the closet, returning to her side. She felt the bed dip with his weight and then felt him lay down beside her again. The return of his warmth. His hand, tentative, fearful of rejection, reached to rest over her waist.

Belle had had enough.

Before Mr. Gold could pull back, she took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing once over his knuckles and then over the pulse point of his wrist. Then, she anchored his hand low on her belly, where he'd had it settled on her earlier that night.

_______________________________

They were woken by the fussy wail of young Grace Jefferson.

Despite getting the least rest of the group, Belle woke first, and moved to attend the child before Gold was even fully awake.

The man shifted to sit up and listened to Belle's fading coo at the baby as she moved down the hallway to parts unknown.

He simply sat, yawning and listening to her chattering and little Grace's answering babbles. Gold laid down again, taking Belle's pillow and burying his face in it, inhaling the scent that clung to the material.

It smelled of Belle and the linen of the pillowcase. He preferred the scent of the woman alone, unfiltered and raw as he'd scented her throughout the night, the nape of her neck just under his nose, her fragrant hair falling over him.

Good God, the woman had invited him to hold her!

Gold sighed, wholly content, but he did not want to stay in bed alone. It was still raining, there was no work for him to attend at the shop, and Belle likewise was off from the library. The day was theirs to enjoy. Gold lifted himself from the cocoon of Belle's scent and his warm memories.

The man took up his cane and limped out of the bedroom. He could still hear Belle talking to the child as he crossed the hallway and moved into the kitchen.

A big breakfast this morning, yes.

Eggs, sausage, toast - _French toast for my favorite French,_ he thought with a smile.

Gold went about the kitchen, preparing their breakfast. Drawn by the scent of food, Belle returned with the baby, freshly changed and wearing a new outfit of yellow shorts and t-shirt with pink polka dots. Belle smiled at him and sat at the table, gratefully accepting the plate that Gold set before her.

Belle set the baby on her lap and refused giving her over to Gold. She was feeling maternally possessive of the child. She couldn't help herself, it was bound to happen.

Grace sat on her lap and reached for the plate, but Belle moved it out of her short reach. The baby squealed in irritation, but Belle was quick to cut a piece of toast and hand it to her. With the baby occupied, Belle was free to feed herself.

"You're learning." Gold remarked from across the table.

Belle nodded at him. "I might be a little rusty, I haven't looked after a baby since high school. It's coming back to me."

"I'm glad. It seems you two have resolved your differences." Gold watched them, and tried to simply enjoy the present. It was an effort not to recall his past when he and his wife had spent so many of their mornings like this with their son.

Belle shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "I think we have. Just a little girl on girl bonding time last night."

"It's a nice change to see."

"Your hair is messy." She told him.

He liked her teasing. Gold reached up and tried finger-combing himself into some standard, but dropped his hand, shrugging. "Bed-head is all part of my Sunday uniform when I stay about the house."

"I'll keep that in mind." Belle said. Another smile. Her hair was a tumble of messy curls to match his unkempt waves of gray.

"Mmm. Plans for today?"

"Nothing that's been set in stone, but I want to check in with a few more of my friends. I didn't make up with everyone from Friday and I don't want to leave things the way I did at Granny's."

Gold nodded, understanding. "I have big plans for today myself."

"Like...?"

"Draw a few sketches, play another round of catch with the little one in the backyard...and try again to watch House of Cards. I, uh, dozed off." He added the last to gauge her reaction. He could feel a telltale heat in his cheeks. He didn't want Belle to tease him about that.

"Sounds like a hectic day."

"Yes, it will rival any firm on Wall Street just before the closing bell." He said glibly.

"Well, don't let me keep you." Belle lifted the baby, intending to give her over to the man, but stopped herself when he held out his hands for Grace.

Concern flooded her face and Gold furrowed his brow.

"Miss French?"

"How did you get those scars?"

Gold looked down at his left forearm, and bit the inside of his cheek. Right. He'd shed his long sleeves when he'd woken up with the intent to leave Belle and the child to his bed. The plain black undershirt he wore left his arm, his scars, exposed.

Belle had seen his scars earlier that week, but she hadn't asked. Now, things had changed. She had shared his bed, so no doubt she felt a sense of freedom to ask after his past.

Well.

He couldn't hide from her. There was a part of him that didn't want to.

"The same way I got my limp."

He waited. There was curiosity in her eyes, as Gold knew there would be. Belle had been open with her interest in him, his life, and he had just answered one of her greatest questions.

But no more.

Belle could see that she wouldn't get anything else from him this morning.

"The child, Miss French."

Belle blinked at his prompting and laughed at herself, "Oh, right."

Grace smiled to be back with her man, bouncing in his lap and stomping on his stomach in her excitement. "Oof," he grunted, but still smiled. "Well good morning to you too."

"I'm going to run upstairs and wash up. Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Gold."

He nodded as she skipped off up the stairs. A few minutes later and he heard the shower come on.

Gold looked down at the baby, who was still giving him a gummy grin. "You like her now? I know. I like her too."

"Go!"

"Yes, yes. In a moment. Not even a year old and you're a woman already: impatient and demanding." Gold teased her.

The baby reached forward and grabbed at his hair, giving it a sharp pull.

Gold winced and pried her hand open to stop her yanking him bald. The child was energetic this morning, the faster he got her outside to play, the better.

Gold finished his breakfast and straightened up the kitchen before returning to his room. He left Grace to wander around the floor as he combed out his hair, washed up and drew on a fresh change of clothes for the day. He put on a pair of chinos and drew on a shirt with short sleeves. There was no need to hide his scars from Belle any longer. Sleeping together had crumbled that boundary between them.

However, he did keep a shirt with long sleeves on hand. The summer linen wouldn't be too hot, but it would keep his scars under wraps if he went into town for one reason or another.

He didn't mind that Belle had seen them, but his scars weren't for the public eye.

Gold was content and pleasantly confused at the change that had occurred in the night. Before the unpleasantness that had lead him into bringing Belle into his home, he had been the one to make advances toward her, small as they had always been.

Kisses to her hand, flirting comments here and there that she always seemed to enjoy.

But Belle?

She must have been awake before he'd woken in the middle of the night and realized what he'd been doing. He'd wrapped an arm around her and settled in to spoon up behind her, and God, he knew that had to be the least of it. The women of his past had always teased him for what he did in his sleep, everything from mere cuddling to more overt advances.

Belle had watched him ready to leave the room, intent to sleep in one of the other rooms upstairs or on the living room sofa.

And she had stopped him dead in his tracks to make her want perfectly clear.

_"Mr. Gold. Come back to bed."_

What man could say no?

He had returned to bed, so cautious, only to be surprised again. The woman took his hand and kissed it twice to make it perfectly clear that she wanted him to hold her as they slept.

Such a marvel, was Belle French.

Gold felt light, his mind had been numbed with this domestic bliss and so refused to let himself worry or overanalyze. There would be time for that. Time for everything, when this was over. As he lead Grace out to play in the backyard, Gold was resolved to let himself enjoy this for what it was, a temporary slice of heaven.

He would need these memories for the dark times that lay ahead.

_______________________________

It was later in the afternoon, and Gold had the house to himself. Belle had skipped off after dressing for the day to visit with her friends, and he didn't mind. He had settled happily in the living room to rewatch the episodes that he'd slept through the night before.

The drama unfolded onscreen, and Gold glanced over to check on Grace. She was freshly bathed after splashing her way through mud puddles left over from the night's rain, entertaining herself with a pile of colorful toys that Jefferson had packed into the tote for her. A small quirk of the lips. _Sweet child._

His cell rang. He paused the program. Grace was watching him now, the little eavesdropper.

"Madame Mayor."

"Gold."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Regina?"

"I have what you want."

He smiled and stretched the length of his body, pleased by the news. Still, he couldn't resist teasing her. "Oh, do you now? And what makes you so sure I want what you have?"

"Of course you want it. You've been begging me for months."

He bristled at that. "I've only begged for one thing in my life, and it was nothing to do with you."

Silence from her.

Then, "That was a long time ago."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Regina dismissed the moment. "Word is that you've moved on."

"You know how I love gossip. Call me back if anything you've heard in this town ever actually ends up being true." He drawled, ready to end the call.

"Wait, don't hang up!"

"Yes?"

"I have...well, most of it."

_"Most?"_

"I have half for you now, the other half later."

"No. We can finalize things when you have the rest. You know where."

On the other end of the line, Regina raised her brows. "You're in a forgiving mood. I thought you'd make this much harder for me."

"I am feeling lighthearted today and it's all thanks to the lovely young lady who shared my bed last night." He told her, voice deeply relaxed as he stretched again.

Gold held the phone away from his ear as she screeched, "What?! Who's with you?"

"Grace Jefferson."

The baby smiled at him, recognizing her name. Gold held his hand out to her, pleased when she stood and waddled over to join him on the sofa.

It had been a long time since he'd been loved so completely.

"Grace Jeff- Gold, you ass!"

"Forgive the tasteless joke, Regina. I couldn't help myself." Gold pulled Grace to sit up next to him.

Baby Grace had formed a connection with the man. He had been a presence throughout her life. Not as constant as her father, of course, but in the simple mind of a child, Grace had laid claim to him. Mr. Gold was _her_ man.

"I thought you meant Belle French."

"Oh, so you've heard the news, then." The cruel braggart in him wanted to confide the truth, that he and Belle had shared his bed the night before, but that would reveal too much. Better to let Regina expose herself first.

"You know how gossip gets around, Gold. Not even I can get away from it. Speaking of, I just left the librarian-turned-maid a voicemail."

"You called to badger her about our arrangement?" Gold demanded. "What business is it of yours?"

"No, I called to badger her about the library. Not everything in Storybrooke is about you."

"Most things are."

"Right. So about this arrangement you have, is there anything you'd care to share?"

"Not telling."

"Careful." Regina warned him. "I could always go after her for the answers I want."

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

"No."

"Denial isn't just the river in Egypt, Madame Mayor."

"Oh, please, I don't envy your little maid a thing. Green isn't the best color on me."

"And now we're on to something interesting. Tell me, what will you wear when we next meet?"

"I'm thinking something...black."

"Bold choice." He said flatly.

"I like to keep you on your toes. Now, let's talk about something important. Henry has been asking for you."

"Yes, the cabin. I know, I haven't forgotten him. Just a little more time, please. Things are different now. I can't just leave." Gold said as he caught Grace to his side, narrowly saving her from overbalancing and falling off the sofa. She squealed as he tickled her belly.

"Are you afraid the help will torch your house? You should be, after what you've done to her reputation." Regina scolded.

"If you'd asked me that question a few days ago, I would have had reason to believe that. I can trust that Miss French won't burn the house down, but it's still early days with her here and I'd rather not leave just yet."

"All right. I'll help Henry understand."

"He doesn't need help to understand. He's a bright lad, always has been. I'll take him soon. You can tell him I've promised, and you know what my word is worth."

"I'll tell him." Regina paused. "Is everything all right with you?"

"How do you mean?"

"I'd never believe all the gossip, but I believe the part about your house being robbed. This all had to start somewhere - is that what really happened, is that why she's with you?"

"Yes." If he could tell the truth to Marcus and Shane, then of course he could tell Regina. Really, being as close as they were, he should have told her first. "After I left you last Saturday, I came home to a wreck. French ripped through everything he could get his hands on. Most of that I could have lived with, but he stole something of Bae's."

Regina took in a breath. It all made sense now. That Moe French was still alive was a miracle - a miracle named Belle, she surmised.

"I got it back and it's safe with the rest, but Miss French walked into the middle of things and through the art of the deal, I'm keeping her here."

Regina was quiet, absorbing this news.

"So long as she's agreeing to stay with you there's nothing anyone can do, but you know I can't stop the town from talking."

"I know. I don't want you to."

"Better to be feared than loved, is that it?"

"It all depends on who fears you, who loves you."

"I suppose it does." She agreed quietly.

"I'll tell her you called when I see her, Regina. And give Henry my love, I promise I'll take him back to the cabin soon."

"Yes. Thank you. Goodbye, Gold."

Regina hung up the phone and sat in the office of the mayoral mansion, thinking about the man.

______________________________

Late in the evening found Gold sitting at the kitchen table, staring across the wood to Jefferson, who held a happily squirming Jefferson the younger in his lap. The man had just returned from the airport, and while Gold wouldn't have minded keeping the child through Monday, Jefferson was not the type to relish his time away from the baby.

He was a single father, but a father all the same.

He'd missed his girl, and had driven to Gold's straight from the airport.

Grace loved Gold but he had been forgotten the moment she'd laid eyes on her father and now sat in his lap, happy as anything.

"Well, they said they'd call but I'm not hopeful." Jefferson said, careful to keep his cup out of Grace's reach. Really, he'd wanted out of the interview before it'd even started.

"They flew you to Miami, that has to mean something."

"Only that they have more money than taste. Christ, you should have seen the work they had laid out."

"Not your kind of wear?" Gold asked, almost jealous that the baby seemed to have dismissed his existence completely since her father had returned.

"God-awful! It was Lady Gaga mixed with Mardi Gras and Carnival and _RuPaul's Drag Race._ Just absurd, ridiculous trash that someone, somewhere decided to call fashion. How does any of this even make it onto a runway? I think the most normal garment there was this weird tulle gown overdraped with plaid. No offense to your tartan senses, but it looked like someone tore an 80's prom dress and a kilt apart, then sewed the pieces together."

Gold laughed at the picture of the bizarre gown on Jefferson's cell. "Nothing I'd wear, then."

"I don't know how these big fashion houses stay in business. They only cater to the super-rich and celebrities, and somehow convinced them that these radical designs will be the next big thing." Jefferson cuddled the baby. "It's either that insanity on the catwalk or it's that 'lived-in' garbage at the mall. Whatever happened to simple designs that are well-made? When Gracie grows up you'll never catch her in a faded t-shirt or ripped jeans that cost me $90."

"You'll put her in a suit? Should have had a boy for that." Gold said, sipping at his tea. His plain blend wasn't as good as Belle's more exotic mixes.

Where was she, anyway? It'd already grown dark, and Jefferson would want to get the baby home. Belle should be here to say goodbye to the child since they'd bonded a bit that morning.

"I'll keep her suited up so the boys stay away!"

"I think you have a little time before you need to worry about that. Oh, excuse me." Gold stood from the table and went to unlock the backdoor. Belle had just passed the kitchen window on her way to the back entrance to the house.

 _I'll have a key made for her._ He thought, pleased that she had returned in time.

Belle stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. Immediately she recognized the young man from the shop when she'd first met the baby, though she hadn't actually met him. "Oh, hello."

"Jefferson, this is Belle French." Gold said, making the introduction.

Jefferson set Grace to stand on the floor as he stood and moved to meet Belle. "Hello."

"Miss French, you can thank this young man for bringing baby Grace into our lives."

Belle smiled. "I should thank you for that, then. She's so sweet."

Grace had waddled to Belle and lifted her arms, groaning to be held. Belle bent to pick her up, knowing it would be some time before she would see the child again after she went home with her father.

Grace held onto Belle's neck, fascinated with the differences between her men and this woman. She'd hated her at first, jealous that Belle was somehow trying to steal Mr. Gold away from her. But when Grace had woken up last night, wet and uncomfortable, Belle had been fast to act. Speaking softly, and liberally applying the powder that Grace so loved. That had been enough to win her over, and now Grace knew that her father would take her away from Mr. Gold and this new person.

Grace didn't want to leave. She wanted her people together in one place where they could all take turns caring for her, helping her to grow up into a woman like Belle.

"Oh, you were with her this weekend?" Jefferson asked, unsure what to make of the sight before him; this gorgeous woman holding his baby. It pulled at him in a primal way that he couldn't ignore.

"I didn't steal her away from Mr. Gold for too long, but yes, I had her to myself for a little while."

He smiled, surprised and happy to see how easily Grace had relaxed in Belle's arms. What a picture they made. "She's not used to women. Her mother's not really in the picture anymore. You must have a real way with her."

"I don't know about that, I just - oh!"

Belle gasped as Grace had just lunged forward at her chest with both hands and a hungry mouth, searching for a meal through the material of her blouse.

"Oh, um, she's hungry." Belle said, gently pulling Grace off her chest, her face flaming in embarrassment.

Jefferson's blush matched Belle's as he took Grace from her. "Wow, she's never, I'm sorry...that's...I, like I said, she's not been around a lot of women, so this is..."

"Sometimes it takes a woman's touch." Gold said lightly, to diffuse the awkward moment.

"I guess so." Jefferson agreed. "So, um, Belle, do you live around here? I have to get going, but maybe I could give you a lift home. The least I could do after Gracie just tried to make a meal of you."

Thankfully, Belle smiled at his joke. She was a good sport in most any situation. "Well, I have an apartment a few blocks off Main Street but I'm actually staying somewhere a lot closer than that."

"That's fine, even if it's just around the corner it'd be no trouble to take you back there-"

"Miss French is with me, Jefferson." There a a finality to his words that stilled the kitchen. "I won't bore you with the details, but Miss French is right where she belongs."

Jefferson cleared his throat, thoroughly embarrassed now. "Oh, well that's...um. It was nice to meet you, Be-Miss French. I'm glad that you were here to give Gracie a little girl time. And Gold, I'll just-"

"Yes, I'll see you out." Gold stood from the table and lead the way to the front door.

Jefferson quietly apologized once they reached the foyer. "Sorry, Gold, I didn't mean to try asking her out right in front of you like that-"

"It's fine, it's fine." Gold dismissed quietly.

"Who is she?" He asked, shifting Grace in his arms. Disappointment aside, Jefferson was happy to know that Gold had someone now. The man had been alone too long. "Where'd you meet her?"

"She's the librarian here. We've been friendly for a time and I invited her to stay while her building undergoes construction."

"You dog!" Jefferson exclaimed, lightly punching Gold in the shoulder.

"It's not like that." He said flatly.

"No?"

"We haven't...she's just staying here, but she is not for you." He warned.

"What a waste. God, those eyes are gorgeous. She have any sisters?"

"Goodbye Jefferson. Date through your own town before you poach women from Storybrooke, will you?"

"Ok, loud and clear." He laughed. "Hey, and thanks again. Grace loves you and I really appreciate the help."

"The pleasure's all mine." Gold told him warmly. "Take care."

"If I didn't know any better I would have said you were jealous."

Gold turned away from the window where he'd been watching Jefferson pull away from the curb, to find Belle with a smug look on her face.

Clever thing.

The man shrugged. "Not a bit. He can shop for the girl's stepmother in Sunshire, you have bigger issues to manage here."

"Oh, like what?"

"Well." Here Gold gestured at her chest, where Grace had left a wet spot over the left breast of her shirt.

"Oh, wow. She didn't even buy me dinner first, she just dove right in."

A line about the child having good taste leapt to his mind, but Gold stayed his tongue.

"Also, there was something about the library, Miss French. The mayor was trying to contact you, and so contacted me. You will want to check your voicemail...or maybe you won't, Regina sounded in a mood."

Belle blushed and fished her cell out of her back pocket. "It's dead. All right, let me handle this."

"Better now than later, Miss French." He called after her as she ran upstairs.

________________________________

With the return of the workweek came a return to normalcy at the house of Gold.

He and Belle would take breakfast together and then depart for the day. Belle would be dropped at the library if the weather took a turn for the worse, but most days she was content to walk through Mr. Gold's neighborhood to and from work. They had not slept beside one another again, and true to form, they had not openly spoken of that night.

As seemed to be their curse, a frank discussion of their feelings toward each other was set aside as new complications arose.

Such as Mr. Gold latest intruder.

Their days were spent dodging gossip and accusations followed by quiet if restless nights, both Belle and Mr. Gold were startled out of their sleep by noise in the kitchen at the end of their first full week together.

Being a man, Gold rushed out of bed to confront the commotion.

Belle, being smaller, weaker and frankly, _smarter,_ she'd found a weapon to defend herself if it came to that in the form of a 9-iron Mr. Gold had left in one of the open-use rooms upstairs. The woman took her cell with her and input 911, intending to descend the stairs, look in on the kitchen and, if she saw a stranger, she would hide, call the police and wait for help.

Gold had felt no sensical compunction to wait. After a quick struggle, he'd gained the upper hand on the theif who'd breached his home by the time Belle had made her way to the kitchen floor.

Belle raised the club as she advanced down the stairs leading to the kitchen, her heart firing blood through her body in hard pulses. She took a deep breath, tensing for violence, ready to stand with Mr. Gold and defend his home against the intruder.

She just hoped to God it wasn't her father again.

Belle descended onto the ground floor. The kitchen was dark, but she could just make out the shape of the man on the other side of the island. He was leaning over, exerting himself over something. She could hear scraping on the floor, but she couldn't make out what was happening from where she was near the stairs. Belle kept her grip on the club and used her elbow to flick the light switch.

At once, the kitchen brightened, and she could see that Mr. Gold was alone. The floor was a mess, and at once she was reminded of the state his house had been in after her father had broken in.

Several packets of her teas had been ripped open. A few apples, half-eaten, were on the floor, as was a shredded orange.

There was no intruder, her father had not tried to breach the house again. Relief flooded through her, enough to drown her dread.

"Mr. Gold, what's going on?" Belle asked as she stepped closer, almost expecting to see him standing over an unconscious thief with a cane mark on his forehead.

"It's, ugh, an unexpected guest." Gold answered.

Belle turned around the kitchen island to find him standing before a cardboard box, using his cane to keep it pinned to the ground. It was an obvious effort for him, as whatever was in the box was determined to escape. Belle saw that the man was balancing on his good leg, unable to put much weight on the other without his cane for support.

"What's in there?"

"Someone who came in looking for a late night snack. He got into your tea, so I'll spare him for his sense of taste. Open the door, will you?"

Belle moved past him, hoping it wasn't a snake or a big rat that he'd trapped, as she was barefoot. Putting on her brave face, she opened the door as Gold used his cane to guide the box along the floor and finally, sliding it outside.

Once it was safely out of the house, he lifted his cane from the box, gladly reclaiming it for himself. Belle watched the relief in his expression as he righted his balance, and wondered again at the pain he suffered in his leg. They never spoke of it, but she couldn't help worrying after him.

Gold sighed in grateful relief as he hiked his knee before righting his balance.

He stood still before the door and watched along with Belle as a small raccoon pushed out from under the box. It chittered, miffed at being denied free reign over the kitchen and then ran away, climbing up the fence and disappearing out into the night.

Belle smiled once the little beast vanished. "Sneaky thing, how did he get inside?"

Gold shook his head, looking about the mess in the kitchen. "All the windows are closed. Ah, he must've used the dog door."

Belle raised a brow and followed him to the far wall and, sure enough, there was a small dog door. She had never noticed it, as Gold had placed a decorative rack in front of it. The rack was shifted out from the wall, leaving just enough space for the raccoon to have squeezed through.

This man was just a pile of secrets. "I never knew you had a dog here."

Gold shrugged and shifted the rack back into place, "It was a long time ago. Her name was Jock. A white Highland terrier. Sweet dog, but always digging in the yard."

"Jock." Belle repeated, testing the word. "Isn't that more of a boy's name?"

"It is." Gold shrugged. "I didn't name her. She wasn't mine."

"Then who-?"

"We'll need to toss your teas." Gold cut in, addressing the mess on the floor.

Unlike his plain blends, her teas were a blend of tea leaves, dried berries and fruit. The raccoon had helped himself to her Kona Pop Blueberry tea, and Belle frowned to see the little theif had torn into a new package of English muffins she'd intended for their breakfast that morning.

"I'll replace them, so long as I get to pick a blend of my own." Gold told her.

Belle smiled as she went to fetch a broom. "See, I knew I'd win you over! There's more to tea than just Earl Grey, Mr. Gold."

As Belle began to sweep, Gold began moving about the floor to pick up after the raccoon. He took up the apples, muffins and oranges, tossing them all into the bin. "Yes, yes. You try tea once, decide you like the taste and then go on to think you've invented the drink. You're worse than any American."

Belle gasped dramatically. "That was a low blow, Mr. Gold! You fight dirty."

He stifled the laugh that tickled through his chest. "Go on and cry to Dr. Hopper. It's never been said that I play fair." Here he took time to look her over, beautifully disheveled as she was, and saw the club she'd set on the table. Interesting choice of weapon.

"And neither do you, from the looks of it." He said as he came closer to her. "Prim and proper librarian by day, golfing warrior thief by night."

Belle huffed and took a defiant stance against the accusation. "I'm no thief."

"That's my shirt, isn't it?"

Belle felt instant heat flood her cheeks as she remembered herself. Yes, yes, she was wearing the shirt from the pajama set he'd loaned to her - and almost nothing else. Her hands flew to the line of buttons at the center of the shirt, and she clasped the collar shut.

The woman was embarrassed to be caught out like this, and her pulse was pounding with sudden awareness now. She was nearly undressed before him, his bedroom only a few steps away, and they were alone.

Belle eyed him and smiled, taunting him. "It _was_ yours. I told you that you weren't getting it back, remember? Unless you want it back right now."

Here Belle played at unbuttoning the line below the collar.

Gold came in close, lifting his hands to rest on her shoulders. Belle closed her eyes as his hands moved over her, smoothing down her arms, his hands briefly closing over hers. Belle took in a quick breath, her eyes snapping open when she felt his hands on her waist.

"Don't tease me." Gold warned her, and Belle had felt a shiver of arousal slip down her spine and tighten across her skin. "Keep the shirt. It looks better on you."

The man then returned to his room, leaving a confused Belle behind in his wake.

__________________________________

The next day, Belle thanked Ruby as she set down her glass of iced tea, taking a minute to ask after her plans for the weekend.

"Well, Mr. Gold wants to go shopping."

"Don't you dare tell me he wants to buy you more clothes!" Ruby warned her. Even the memory of Belle's closet was still enough to drive her up a wall with jealousy.

"No, no. He wants to shop for furniture and things for the front rooms."

"So he really does want you to help with that?"

"Well, helping to restore the house was part of the reason he brought me in."

"What about the other reason? Has he tried anything yet?" Ruby only asked this question every single time Belle came near her since learning of her more personal connection with the man.

"Nothing overt, but he's meeting me for lunch today. He texted while I was at work, said he wanted to discuss something."

Ruby raised her brows. "He proposing?"

"Somehow I doubt that." Belle said flatly, but she finished with a smile. "He should be here soon."

"You have one minute before Granny starts screaming for me when the lunch rush hits, Belle." Ruby urged.

"It wont be that long-" Belle said, but stopped herself on seeing her father enter the diner. Ruby saw him too. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Belle, I've been looking for you." Moe said in greeting as he slipped into the booth across from her. She had not seen her father since the night Gold had taken her into his home, and for him to be so suddenly before her now was something of a shock.

Moe had let his stubble grow in, and his eyes were bloodshot but alert. Belle loved this man despite everything he'd done to hurt her over the years. Her friends understood, but they pitied her the chain of guilt Moe so often used to keep her close.

"You didn't have to look far. I'm sure you've heard where I've been staying."

"With Gold."

"Yes. I've been there since that first night."

"He's kept you there this whole time? What about your job?"

 _Which one?_ Belle thought with a flash of irritation.

"I still work. He isn't forcing me to stay there. I can leave when I want, he's never stopped me."

"Well, that's something, at least."

"He hasn't...he's been treating me very well." Belle said, and she didn't know why she was trying to justify the man to her father of all people.

"I've heard you two have been playing house these last two weeks."

"It's not like that. I'm living with him, that's all."

"Yeah, that's all for now. Rat bastard is just biding his time. Either that or he can't get it up." Moe said, glaring about the diner, expecting to see Mr. Gold at one of the other tables. He didn't know that Gold was bound to come through the door any minute now.

Belle felt her face on fire at her father's vulgarity. There was no way to defend Mr. Gold's prowess, but her father had already moved on. "Anyway, we might be able to use that against him."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been watching him from outside the pawn shop. He'd got a safe in the wall behind the counter."

And there it was. The reason her father had sought her out. Not to see her, not to find out if she was happy and safe and cared for.

No, her father had only come here to enlist her help in stealing whatever secrets Mr. Gold was keeping in his shop. Another scheme against her friend.

"You...you can't be serious."

"Belle, I've seen it. Gold's got to be keeping something in there worth more than anything in his house."

"I don't know anything about a safe-"

"It's all right. I've got it worked out. Just tell him that you want to keep this-" Moe pulled Belle's necklace, her mother's necklace, the necklace she'd been missing for weeks, from his pocket "-in a safe place. You put it to him the right way, maybe bat your eyes, and I guarantee he'll volunteer you free use of the shop safe."

"How can you know what he'll do?"

"Because a man will do anything to impress a pretty girl. Trust me. Talk to him the right way and he'll hand over the keys to the kingdom and walk away thinking the whole thing was all his idea."

"And what if he doesn't just hand over free access to his safe? What then?"

"Then it might take a little more than some sweet talk, you might have to convince him that you'll-"

"I'm leaving."

Moe blinked as Belle abruptly stood from the table, "What? Belle!"

He followed her outside the diner, demanding that she explain herself.

Belle stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face him. "I don't know why I keep holding out hope that you'll change. I wish I could stop myself from thinking that today or tomorrow will be the day when you finally wake up. God, do you even know what you did when you broke into Mr. Gold's house? What that did to me?"

"Belle, I know he had you move in, but-"

"No. Don't say it like that, like he just _asked_ me to move in. No. He demanded that I stay with him and in return he promised that he wouldn't attack you again. I only agreed to stay with him to keep you safe." Belle told her father, jabbing her fingers between them. "You didn't scare him away, he didn't just give up, and you sure as hell didn't outsmart him by staying with your friends around town. The only reason you didn't catch another beating from him was because I agreed to stay and let the entire town think I'm trash, just like you and mom."

"Don't you dare bring your mother into this!" Moe warned her.

"Why not? You always do. Every time you need me to volunteer at the shop it's because you think she'll come back, that's the only reason you've tried to keep it open all this time. Idiot that I am, a part of me used to hope for that too. But she's not coming back, dad. She left us. _She left us._ She abandoned her family to start over and we both know it."

"You shut up!"

"It's true! I found her online, happy as anything with her new life. She hasn't remarried but it hasn't stopped her from moving on. She has a new man, dad. God, I have a baby half-brother! Mom couldn't take it here anymore and she left us to start a new family."

"You shut your damn mouth! It's all lies!" Moe fumed, taking a hard step closer.

Belle held her ground.

"I wish it was. I wish she had stayed, or taken me with her, but she wanted a fresh start, away from all this. Away from us." Belle felt the tears on her cheeks but didn't bother to swipe them away. "It's what I need too."

"Oh, a fresh start?" Moe outright laughed in her face. "With who? Your friend the town bike, or those two faggots at EastGate? Or, oh, let me guess, Gold. You think Gold wants you? That old bastard doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"It seems like you and he have that in common." Belle snapped, surprising herself.

"So what's the plan, Belle? You going to cut ties with me and hitch your wagon to Gold? Do that and you're the money-grabber everyone in town already thinks you are, thanks to him. Go ahead!" Moe dared her. "He's going to use you and dump you on your ass - you'll have nowhere to go, because don't think that you could come home to me."

"Home hasn't been with you in years." Belle told him, her words steady despite the tears slipping down her face.

"Run back to Gold, then. Jump into bed with him and see how long that happy ending lasts, you'll be lucky if he keeps you til the end of the week!" Moe yelled savagely, drawing attention to them from up and down the street.

Humiliation burned through her. She couldn't stand fighting with him, so Belle did the cowardly thing this time and turned tail to run. She ignored her father's taunts as she crossed her arms against the wind and walked away, heading away from Storybrooke and into the neighborhood across the street.

Moe watched as Belle strode across Main Street, knowing she was crying, hoping she was hurting and hoping that his insults had cut her to the bone. Who the hell was she to make up lies about her own mother like that? She was so different than she'd been before. What had gotten into her?

He asked himself the question, but the man already knew the answer: Gold.

It had to be that vicious bastard playing his daughter against him. Who else? Who else would be able to turn Belle's head like that? The man had brought Belle into his home for the sole purpose of turning her against her family and ruining her for anyone else in town.

In a sick way, it made perfect sense.

Gold had no family of his own so he made due by poisoning the families in Storybrooke.

Gold. It was Gold, he was the one doing this, putting these ideas in her head.

It had to be.

If he lost Belle too...

_Tap. Step-tap. Tap. Step-tap._

Moe closed his eyes, knowing what he'd see when he opened them and turned around.

"Mr. French. It's time you and I had a talk that's long overdue."


	24. Fast Friends

Moe took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he turned around on the sidewalk.

There he was, just as he knew he would be.

Gold.

 _Mr._ Gold to those who showed him genuine respect or who just wanted to keep their houses.

Moe sneered.

The other man was short, slight, crippled and cruel. As always, he wore an impecable suit. Today it was black on black. Moe thought he looked like a damn undertaker. A thin smile touched his lips, however when Gold removed his sunglasses Moe could see that his eyes were hard.

"What was all that about?" Gold asked, gesturing lightly to Belle's retreating back just as she disappeared from sight.

"Family business." Moe snapped.

"A very loud business, it would seem."

"You heard it all?"

Gold gave him a hard stare. "I heard enough."

"Look, you've made your point but it's over now. Belle is coming home."

Gold laughed, flashing his fangs, "That's funny."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Moe snarled.

"Hmm. A _joke,_ yes. Joking? No." Gold became serious in an instant, ready to deny this man everything, but most especially Belle. She was _his._ "She's not going anywhere with you, her place is with me now."

"You old bastard!"

"I'm three years younger than you." Gold reminded him lightly.

"And still a bastard."

"If you have nothing else, we are finished here." He had other things he needed to be doing, after all.

Gold moved to step past, but Moe grabbed his sleeve to stop him walking away. Gold looked down at Moe's hand, bunching the sleeve of his suit, and then looked pointedly at the man himself. Moe released him, a wise choice, but he went on with his demands, "You've had your fun, now let Belle go."

"Oh, that's what you think? I've had my use of her and now, what, I've grown bored enough to turn her out?" Gold scoffed but his words were fast gaining an edge. "You've another thing coming, I'm keeping her. No one else has ever made me such a delicious lasagna." Gold was well aware of the eavesdropping from the diner window, and turned to the faces looking out at them. "It's frozen, Granny, we all know it!" He punctuated the statement by slapping the glass, startling everyone inside.

"Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me?!" Moe demanded.

"Oh, please, I didn't take anything. You let me walk out of your house with her and didn't lift a finger to stop me. She's been under my roof for weeks, if you wanted her you could have come for her at any time. But you never did, and she never said so but I know it hurt her. And you'll be the last to hurt her again." Gold's voice was soft when he spoke of Belle, but it held the unmistakable edge of possession. "Belle is happy with me, we've set up quite the domestic routine. So, no. I'm not letting her go. She's _mine."_

Moe scowled, his face dark with anger. "You turned her head with your money, that's all it is. That's all any woman could want you for. You baited her in with some cash and you think it's cute, you think it's funny what you've done. You think she likes being stuck with you? You're a filthy pervert, Gold! Keeping her like this, she'll never get married now, do you know that? No one will go near her thanks to you! You played your little game and for what? You've ruined a girl and broke up a family all because you have no one!"

Gold clenched his teeth. The dig stung, but he hadn't become the monster he was with a thin skin. "Stop. You've thieved and cheated and gambled your way into a hair short of foreclosure on the shop and your house. You think I'm a monster _now?_ Just you wait. I've held back on you for her sake, but Belle deserves one less thing to worry about." Gold's voice was almost teasing, but the threat was clear. "If you were to lose the shop, her mother's legacy would disappear, one less thing tying you two together. Then she truly would have nothing more to do with you, and I'd have her all to myself."

Moe felt the ground tilt beneath his feet. Gold was going to take _everything._

"You...you can't do that, I'd kill you before you had the chance." Moe told him, but all the bluster of before was gone, the wind dying in his sails.

"Better men than you have tried."

"You'd do that just to...you're nothing but a bastard, Gold."

"Yes, but I'm the bastard holding all the cards." Gold let his lips curl back in a sneer undercut with lust. "And later tonight, I'll be holding your daughter."

"You son of a bitch!" Moe yelled, his temper flaring hot once again. "You think she could ever want you? You make her skin crawl. Don't you touch her! "

"What do you care, really, after all you've done to her?"

"Oh, it's easy to judge my family when you don't have one. And small wonder, what woman could want you other than to hook you for money? You've turned my girl into a goddamn whore!"

"I..." Gold faltered here, because in the town's eyes that was exactly what he had done. Belle might have forgiven him, but he didn't deserve it. Still, he could lament his choice later, he wasn't finished with her father. "Believe me when I say that Belle and I are closer than you think. You're no family to her, her family is her friends-"

"The slut at the diner and the queers up the street?" Moe rolled his eyes. "I know all about them."

"Clearly, you don't." Gold drawled. Really, he was beyond ready to end this. He wanted to go after Belle, he knew she had to be upset after the vulgar things that Moe had screamed at her.

Moe took a step toward him, trying to use his size to intimidate. But this was Mr. Gold, and he feared nothing save the woman who shared his home now and the memories of his past.

"I made a deal with Belle. So long as she stays with me, you're safe." Gold held up his hands, playing at helplessness. "However, she never made that agreement with _them."_

Moe turned around and found Shane and Marcus on the sidewalk. Marcus cracked his knuckles, eyes hard, and Shane had just handed his suit jacket to Jasmine for safekeeping. Blood stains were the hardest to wash out.

As one, they moved to rush the man but Gold stopped them.

"Don't," Gold warned, pointing behind them, up the street. "He's earned a beating for what he's done to her, but you don't deserve to go to jail over his insults."

The men backed off as Sheriff Graham neared them, called in by Ruby as a precaution. Both Gold and French were known to get violent when pushed and this, a fight over a woman - daughter to one and lover to another - was bound to be explosive. Throw an angry Shane and Marcus into the mix and they'd all go to jail if there was a fight in front of so many witnesses.

Shane, the more sensible one of the pair, shook his head and began guiding Marcus away from Gold and French, intent to bring him into the diner to calm down.

"Yeah, that's what I thought! Goddamn fairies." Moe sneered.

Marcus broke free of the hold Shane had kept on his arm, hauled off and punched Moe right in the nose.

Gold rose his brows, surprised, and almost sure he'd heard the wet _snap_ of Moe's nose breaking.

"Ah, you little bastard! Sheriff, you see that? That's assault! Arrest him! Get his ass in jail, I bet he'd love it there!"

Graham shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. French, I didn't see a thing."

Graham then turned to the men. "You two get on, it's over. Mr. Gold, you too."

As Moe went on shouting at the Sheriff, Marcus and Shane went off in one direction, while Mr. Gold went off to follow after Belle.

___________________________________

Gold chose not to double-back to his shop to retrieve his car. He knew where he would find the woman he sought.

His frown deepened as he recalled what French had shouted at her - accusations vulgar enough on their own, but the man had gone out of his way to humiliate her by screaming in the street.

This was Storybrooke.

People talk, and when the gossip is anything interesting, they talk endlessly. Belle had already been a figure of speculation thanks to Gold's keeping her, but now?

Now, Moe French had only added fuel to the fire.

The eyes of town would be watching closer than ever.

One thing in all the ranting had caught Gold's interest. Had French been right? Had he ruined any chance of Belle finding another man by keeping her with him?

_I certainly hope so._

Gold neared his house and frowned to find Belle sitting on the front steps that lead up to the porch, hugging her knees to her chest. Such a tiny thing she was. The woman looked up when she heard his approaching _tap._ She had been crying, the tears having the perverse effect of making her blue eyes seem luminous, almost inhuman.

Gold stood, hands planted before him on the handle of his cane. "Miss French, why are you out here?"

Belle gave a slow shrug, "The door's locked. I don't have a key."

Gold bit the inside of his cheek, cursing himself. "Ah. I know I should have had one made for you sooner. I was going to give you this over lunch." He came close and sat beside her on the step, then withdrew a new key from his pocket.

True to form, the key was gold in color and he'd attached a red rose charm. Engraved on the key was a stylish **B,** the same script font that she'd selected for his tiepin the previous Christmas.

He dropped it into her hands and sat silent beside her as Belle ran her fingertips over the keychain rose, eyes unseeing. "I'm sorry."

Gold raised a brow. "What for?"

"Just...I wish I was different, that I didn't come from..."

"Australia?"

"My father. He's such a mess, all he does is cause trouble for everyone." Belle pressed her hand to her forehead. Again, she found herself confiding her doubts to this man she loved even when she knew so little of him. "Deep down, I'm afraid I'll end up just like him."

"You're nothing like him, Miss French, and you've never been any trouble to me. If anything, I'm the one who's caused you trouble."

"I thought it wouldn't bother me, but what he said people were saying about us-"

"That's my fault. You know it is. I used you to make a point."

"And I forgave you."

Gold dipped his head. "I know. Thank you for that."

Belle suddenly reached for his hand, her grip tight and her expression earnest. "I never cared about your money. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I've never had to try so hard to spoil a woman." Gold teased, nudging her.

He didn't like this. Her father had filled her mind with doubt; she doubted herself, she doubted their friendship. He was trying to make her laugh, but Belle wasn't having it.

"I never wanted anything. Everything you've given me has been so beautiful and so thoughtful, but Mr. Gold, I never...it wasn't about all that." She shook her head, and looked at him. "I just liked talking to you. You've been the highlight of my day for more than a few months now."

"Me? Miss French, I think you may need to explore some more exciting hobbies." She didn't smile at his self-deprication, she never did. Gold grew serious. "I've always enjoyed seeing you too. It's my fault it was such a trial just to be friends."

"It was always kind of a thrill, almost getting caught in your shop all those times when someone would come in." She shrugged, thinking of how they'd narrowly avoided discovery. A curtain had been all that stood between them and revealing the truth to the town.

"You thought so?"

"I thought it was funny that we kept it under wraps for so long. I almost started to see it as a game with the town to pretend that I barely knew you, when all the while we'd been spending hours together. Time well spent, I always thought." Belle said, squeezing his hand. Gold settled in closer to her, letting her lean on his shoulder.

"Yes. Though looking back, if we'd been found out - if anyone had gone into the back room and found you there, it would have looked all the more suspicious." Gold remarked.

Belle shook her head. "I would have hidden. Once they left, you'd have found me crammed into a cabinet or inside the air duct."

They both shared a laugh at the absurd picture this painted, and Gold was glad for it.

"I don't know if my father will ever be strong enough to change. I don't know if Storybrooke ever will, either. I've been with you for weeks, I told my friends the truth. I thought the others' gossiping would be over by now but they still talk about us. At the diner, in Ariel's salon, the PTA...I don't know, in this town they may never stop."

Gold nodded, and could think of nothing clever to say. "Yes, and they're all idiots."

"They really are." Belle agreed on a laugh.

The man brought his arm around, stroking her back. "Belle, this thing we have...I know it hasn't been easy on you since that first night. And I'm the one who is sorry for that. I'd take it all back of I could. I wanted to take it back the next morning."

"Mr. Gold-"

"No, please. Tell me what I can do. How can I fix this?"

They both looked up as a car rolled past the house, slowing considerably once whoever was inside saw them. No doubt their sitting on the front steps would be twisted into something scandalous by the driver.

Gold hoped they crashed.

A couple of older women walked by across the street, frowning at them.

"I just...I wish things were different, for a lot of reasons." Belle said, inclining her head toward their audience.

"So do I." Gold lifted his hand to stroke her hair, lightly tugging at a lock. He then grazed over her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Come on, Miss French. Test out your key and once we're inside we'll see if I can find your smile."

_________________________________

The man had barely sat across from her to tuck into the lunch they'd put together - a simple affair of sandwiches, cut apples and chips, with Belle smiling all the while, to his relief - before the doorbell rang. Belle visibly tensed, but Gold made a calming gesture with his hand. He doubted her father would come to try taking her back now, but then again Moe French was an idiot and clearly had no qualms about making a scene in public.

 _If he's come to my house after everything he's done, I'm going to put an end to this - one way or another._ The only thing that worried him would be how to hide the body from Belle.

Gold took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately relieved to see Ruby and Jasmine on the porch. Her lovely friends, here to offer comfort. He stepped aside. "Come in, ladies."

Jasmine stepped forward, "Thank you Mr. Gold."

"It's all right - ah, what are you doing?" Gold asked, as Jasmine had just done the unthinkable and hugged him.

She held him when he attempted to pull away, her thin arms surprisingly strong. "I heard everything. That man said some horrible things to you."

Gold frowned as Ruby shrugged helplessly at him over Jasmine's shoulder, smiling. She was enjoying this, he wouldn't be surprised if she took out her cell and snapped a picture to post online. "I'm perfectly fine, Miss-"

"No." Jasmine finally released her embrace but she planted her hands on his shoulders, her dark gaze strong on meeting his own. "Mr. French was as cruel to you as he was to Belle. We know you've been good to her, so we're friends now. All of us."

"...thank you." Gold said, feeling ridiculous.

Honestly, that thought had never occured to him. In revealing their friendship with each other, Gold had gained access into Belle's circle of friends. The same was true for Belle, he realized. She would be looked at as a new friend to those few people he kept close.

Once the young woman backed off, Gold cleared his throat to mask how uncomfortable the touch and intense declaration had made him. "Yes, ladies, you can go ahead and see her. Miss French is just in the kitchen."

Jasmine set off to find Belle, eyes hungry to explore the mysterious Mr. Gold's home. Ruby hung back with Gold at the door and raised the plastic grocery bags she held, letting him peek inside. Popcorn, ice cream and soda. "There's enough junk food in here for four if you want to join us."

The offer was genuine and very kind.

Gold shook his head. "No, no. She needs her girls. I'll leave you to it."

Ruby started toward the kitchen, but turned back to him. "Belle likes you, you know."

"She seems to. I like her too."

"You ought to do something about it."

"I don't know if I should."

"Why?"

"There are many reasons. Belle deserves better." He said truthfully.

"She doesn't see it that way."

"It's still true." Gold said, looking down to the handle of his cane. Moe French's words had played on his insecurities more than he'd been willing to let on at first, but now... "If things were different. Another life, maybe."

"Make a move." Ruby urged him. "You might be surprised, Mr. Gold."

Gold had no answer to that. "They'll be wondering what's keeping you, Miss Lucas. Will you please tell Miss French that I've gone back to the shop?"

"I will."

"And _this_ will remain between us." Gold told her. There was no room for argument here. Really, what had he been thinking, to say all that he had? Miss Lucas wasn't known for her discretion - she was likely to tell Belle everything the second his back was turned.

"You got it." Ruby nodded. "I'll make sure we leave some ice cream for you."

"Thank you. Good day, Miss Lucas."

_________________________________

Gold didn't know why his feet lead him toward EastGate rather than back to his shop. He knew there would be no business coming in, the town would assume him to be so angry over the scene with French that he would evict as soon as he'd look at whoever came in the door. It would give him time to catch up on his paperwork, but he had no desire to be shut in at the shop for the remainder of the day.

But why EastGate?

Curiosity, he supposed, and a feeling of fellowship with the younger men. They all loved Belle - but if Moe French was to be believed, then Shane and Marcus loved each other and Gold had something to say about that if they wanted to remain as his tenants.

"Oh, hi Mr. Gold. Come on in." Marcus said on opening the door to him.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, go ahead, have a seat." Marcus plopped down on the sofa and replaced the bag of frozen peas over his bruised knuckles. "So, what brings you here?

"I just wanted to check in. Where's your...roommate?" Gold asked, deliberately baiting the other man with the word.

Marcus cleared his throat. "He's out making a beer-run, and thanks to French you know he's not just my roommate."

_Ah, the truth, then._

"Yes, I wanted to ask if-"

"It's true." Marcus cut in, on the defense. "And I like you, Mr. Gold, but if you came here to tell me you're going to evict us-"

"What? No, nothing like that."

"Good, because you're not the only one in the world who knows something about the law. Try evicting us for being a couple and you'll be fleeced up with 80 lawsuits and the local news camped out in front of your house."

"You assume too much. I don't care who pays the rent, just so long as it gets paid." Gold told him. What had he ever done to warrant being assumed a bigot?

"Well, we're paid up through the month so why'd you come to visit?" Marcus asked, relaxing just slightly.

"If you and Mr. Garrison re-register your lease as a married couple, your rent will decline by 10%." Gold said simply.

"You honestly came all the way down here to let us know about some couples discount?" Marcus narrowed his eyes and gave Gold a sly grin. "Shane might be more clever than me, but even I can see you're after something else. It doesn't take a genius, so just tell me what you want to know about Belle."

Gold sighed, found out. "Earlier this spring I fell under the impression that your Shane and Miss French were involved."

"Oh, yeah?" Marcus didn't seem concerned.

"Yes. And I've seen you pursue her as well. It doesn't make sense to me if it's you and Mr. Garrison who are involved." Gold eyed him. "I just want some clarification."

"You, what, you want to know if Shane and I have brought Belle in as our third?"

Marcus's words were direct, but not far from Gold's more wild and paranoid thoughts when he'd witnessed Belle being playfully handled by one man after just having spent the night with the other.

"To put it delicately, I suppose."

"Afraid not, though not for lack of trying. I've been trying to entice her into some three-in-a-bed sex for the last two years, but no luck. She's a little too... _traditional_ for that. A one-man kind of woman, I think." Marcus shrugged. "It's not like that with her, Shane and I flirt with all our girlfriends. Look, you've probably heard that we dated Belle and Ruby and most of the others while we were all in high school. Hell, I cheated on Belle _with_ Ruby."

"You what?"

"We were seventeen, who cares?" Marcus shrugged. "Anyway, I think Ruby dumped me for Shane two weeks later or something like that. None of it matters now. We both dated them and...I don't know, after graduation we all kept in touch and somehow, Shane and I realized we could be happy if we dated each other."

"And are you?"

At that, Marcus gave a slow and thoughtful smile. "Yes. Happier than I've ever been. I'm not saying it was easy - our parents weren't thrilled, you know? Shane's dad was only ever able to accept us in the end, but _my_ dad? I haven't spoken to him in years. Everything French said today hit way too close to home, so I hit him."

Gold was a traditional man, but not so fixed in his beliefs that he could imagine shunning his own son for any reason. No, never that. Family was everything.

In Marcus, he saw a shade of Bae - the lost boy. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Marcus took a deep breath. "But Shane and I, we've made each other stronger. Been together for the last five years."

Gold might have asked a question, but just then Shane stepped into the apartment with two pizzas and a twelve-pack of Marcus's favorite beer. Of course Shane had been angry at French's taunting, but Marcus was the most wounded. It was why he'd lashed out against the man - less anger, more hurt.

He raised a brow as he kicked the door shut behind him. "Mr. Gold."

Gold stood and shook Shane's hand after Marcus moved to take the pizzas from him and into the kitchen. "Mr. Garrison."

"What brings you over?" He asked carefully.

Marcus stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway. "He doesn't care about us; he just wanted to make sure we never touched his gal."

"She's not-"

"I don't know why you'd worry about that." Shane said, shaking his head. "After today, between all that screaming from French and then everything you said, there's no doubt about who Belle's with now."

"All I said...I didn't say any of it with the mind to disrespect Miss French. I said it to provoke her father into attacking me."

Marcus stepped out of the kitchen with three plates of pizza, setting a plate before Mr. Gold without comment. He was a guest in their house, they would see him fed. Marcus took two beers from Shane and again, set one before Gold. "You wanted him to fight you? Why?"

Gold shook his head, looking down at the handle of his cane. "If he attacked me - publicly - I would have grounds to press charges. Not enough to see him in jail for years, nothing so severe, for her sake. Just enough to justify taking that damn shop. Without it, he would have one less way of stealing Miss French's time, using guilt to exploit her kindness. She's been volunteering there just to keep the doors open, gaining nothing for herself. All her father has done is hurt her."

Shane nodded. "You're right about that. The things she's told me..."

"Mr. Gold, you really wanted French to hit you? What if you'd been hurt?"

Gold shrugged and tapped into his beer. "We've fought before. She's worth a few more bruises or another cut."

Shane whistled. "That's real love."

He shook his head and bit into his pizza. How was it that so many people could suddenly see right through him in his feelings for Belle? They had put in the effort to keep each other secret for over a year, but since he'd brought the woman into his home weeks ago he'd sabotaged all discretion - Belle herself seemed wise to his affection, and he knew she cared for him as well.

Still - this was between _them,_ not them and the rest of the town. And now, when Belle had just been shamed before what had to feel like the whole world by her own father, it was not the time to try pressuring her into making the man's accusations a reality.

"It's complicated."

"No, Mr. Gold, don't let it be complicated. Belle is wonderfully simple. That night I slept over, I swear to you that nothing happened. She just needed someone to hold her. You know how women are." Shane insisted.

"I do."

Marcus laughed, "I've been pushing to get one of the girls in bed with us for years, but so far no takers."

Gold lightly rolled his eyes. "Imagine that."

Shane shook his head, good-naturedly scolding his love. "I told you, that's something we'll only do for our anniversary."

Marcus twisted the cap off his beer, raising it to tap against Gold's bottle in a one-sided salute. "A man cannot live on bread alone, am I right?"

"You're a couple but you still like women?" Gold asked.

This was something of a revelation to him, but Belle and the others in their group must have accepted them. Gold himself had no problems with it, why would he? They could do as they pleased just so long as they crossed Belle off their list of women open to celebrate with.

Of all the women in the their circle of friends, Gold surmised that Ruby Lucas might be the one for them. He didn't judge her for it, there was no secret that she embraced her sense of sexual adventure.

Shane shrugged, and if he felt at all uncomfortable in being so open before Mr. Gold, he never showed it. They were all adults. "What's not to like? Ariel is so creative and fun, Ruby is the hottest and she's the best dancer, and there's just something special about Belle - but anything else is off the table. At least for me. I can't get Marcus to stay away from the skirts."

"I'm only gay for you, Shane. You're the only man for me, so don't be jealous when I chase the girls." Marcus said, clearly teasing.

"They're all very lovely, so at least it can be said you have wonderful taste in women." Gold gave a soft smile, relaxing further that he'd been let in on what was no doubt a secret to the rest of the town.

Well.

Perhaps their relationship wasn't such a secret any longer, not after French had screamed about them on Main Street.

"Do many people know about you two?"

"What, you mean outside of the girls and our parents?" Shane asked.

"Yes."

"The people who work in my jewelry store know I'm gay but they don't know I'm with Marcus. They think we're just roommates. But thanks to French I guess my cover's been blown."

"Nice pun, Shane." Marcus said dryly. "I didn't tell anyone at the body shop. But it's out there now, we might as well embrace it. I'm not even worried about it. We're together, so what? If anyone what's to quit working for me, then I say good riddance. I don't think anyone here will stop coming in for service because no one - _no one_ \- in this town knows their way around an engine like I do. But if they want to spend twice the money for a job done half as well in Sunshire, then that's their problem."

Gold had had his car serviced by Marcus just the previous month, and it ran like a dream. He'd never deny the younger man's skill under the hood. "I'm sorry that you were both outed this way. It should have been your choice, but French took that from you."

Shane nodded, tipping the bottle against his lips for a sip. "He did, but I don't know that it'll really change anything. I mean, we're always out together anyway, we're just not big on PDA."

Marcus set the frozen peas aside and flexed his hand. Bruised, not broken. "Yeah, Shane's a prude."

"I am not a prude - I just don't like it when people go around making out or groping each other where anyone can see them. Mr. Gold, can you back me up on this?"

Gold raised his brows, but nodded and thought of Belle. If she was his, he'd be free to touch and kiss her as much as he wanted - but in public? He had never been one for that. "I'm much the same way. Holding hands and the like is all right, but anything more than that should remain private."

"You're serious?"

"What a man does with a woman...or another man...or another man and a woman, or whatever the case may be, I think it should stay behind closed doors." Gold said on a shrug.

"You're prudes, the both of you." Marcus reached for another slice of pizza. "Shane, I'm going to jump you in the middle of the Fall Festival next month just to rattle you."

"Try it and I'll break your nose." Shane threatened him around a mouthful of pizza.

"You see what I have to put up with?" Marcus asked Gold. "He's such a tease."

Gold found himself laughing at the banter between them.

Shane swallowed his bite. "Well, Mr. Gold, I guess we all know each other better now."

"Yes, I suppose we do."

"Hey, after Belle told us the truth of how you two have been seeing each other all this time, we kind of decided - you're one of us now." Marcus declared.

"Am I?"

Shane agreed. "It's probably more than you expected to get, but it's a package deal. Any friend of Belle's is a friend of ours."

"Mmm. I've been told as much already." Gold said, recalling Belle's visitors at the house.

"Welcome to the fold."

This time, when Marcus and Shane raised their bottles for a cheers, Gold lifted his as well.

________________________________

In a blatant effort to distract Belle from the cruel words of her father the day before and to rouse the pleasant memories of their first time away from Storybrooke, Gold decreed that they would spend Sunday in Sunshire. He hadn't been lying when he'd expressed his sense of urgency in restoring his house.

The man was content to give Belle free reign in picking out the pieces that would make the place whole - almost anything would be better than to go on facing those empty rooms.

In a few hours, Belle had picked out nearly everything and it would all be delivered to the house within the next few days. After trekking up and down Sunshire's shopping district, and approving nearly all of Belle's choices for the house - nearly, because there was no way in hell he was going to have a porcelain kitten on his mantle - the man was ready for a late lunch. Belle heartily agreed.

The pair found their way into a restaurant, more on the casual side but more upscale than anything Storybrooke could offer.

On stepping in, Belle excused herself to the ladies room, leaving him to address the hostess. Gold was just about to speak to ask for a table for two, when he felt a tug on the leg of his trousers.

"Go!"

He looked down and found Grace smiling at him. "What are you doing here?"

Grace might have told him, quite plainly and without preamble, "My father and I are here for an early dinner, Mr. Gold, because he wants to test me, to see how I'll behave in a public restaurant, but he doesn't have to worry - I'm going to act like a real lady."; however her immature mouth could only convey a murmured babbling of "da da da."

He reached down and extended his hand to her, smiling softly as her tiny hand grasped his finger. "Where is your father?"

Understanding him perfectly, Grace pointed behind him.

"Right here, Gold."

Jefferson emerged from his hiding spot just a few feet away, behind a pillar.

"Oh, you sent her as the welcoming committee?"

Jefferson shook his head, "No, I didn't send her anywhere. She saw you first and I couldn't keep her still, she had to get to you."

"I tend to have that effect on women."

Jefferson raised his brows an glanced pointedly as Belle returned to greet them. "Yeah, I've noticed."

"Jefferson! Grace! Hello." Belle chirped. Grace hurried to Belle and lifted her arms, wanting to be held.

"Belle, it's great to see you again. Hey, you two should join us." Jefferson suggested.

Gold nodded and looked to the woman. "Miss French?"

Prying little Grace's hand off her earring, Belle smiled. "Of course, I'd love that!"

They took their meal outside on the open patio, enjoying the late afternoon breeze. The sky was moving to striking shades of pinks and purple, the sun a bright orange ball suspended above them.

Their meals were tasty, filling, just what they'd needed after their long day. Gold was content to watch as Belle held Grace in her lap. She looked so happy, and though it pained him to see that she would make a fine match for a man like Jefferson - a man free of a dark past, a man who could offer her a simple, secure future - it was to him that Belle looked and smiled, and it was his hand that she held in the street.

_________________________________

Days later, the man was silent as he walked up the length of the building, unable to bring himself to call out her name - old habit, that, keeping silent even in an empty library, and one of the few institutional rules he still respected.

He found her, finally, four rows from the back of the space and halfway up a ladder as she reached to replace a book on the top shelf.

Gold couldn't help himself, and lingered at the start of the aisle, simply looking at her. Belle really was so lovely, and while he might favor her eyes especially, he indulged himself with this unique view of her legs; they seemed mile-long on the ladder, and at his position her skirt seemed to barely conceal the curve of her backside. In a flash, he pictured taking her against that ladder, her bare feet planted on the ground, her hands gripping the high rungs as he pulsed into her from behind with a hand fisted in her hair, pulling it, forcing her to reveal her throat so he could bite her, mark her for all to see.

Startled at that dark turn in his thoughts, Gold gave himself a mental shake and found his voice. "Miss French?"

Atop the ladder, Belle jumped, dropping her book, and to his horror, he watched as she lost her balance.

Gold rushed forward and, by some crooked miracle, managed to catch Belle against him. They were left in an awkward, uncomfortable embrace, with Belle's nose buried between his collarbones, their arms clutching to each other and their legs tangled in a comical dance to find purchase and recover their balance. In the melee, Gold had dropped his cane and was leaning on the heavy bookshelf for support, but Belle was quick to pick it up for him.

Flushed and hair mussed, Belle smiled at Gold as she regained herself. "I...thank you."

Gold cleared his throat and straightened his tie, reclaiming his cane from her. "It was nothing. Are you all right?"

Belle straightened her skirt, "Yes, I'm fine thanks to you. "

He shrugged off the rescue. "Well, we can't have us both limping about town. One cripple is enough."

Belle paused at his comment, feeling a pang at the words. Of course she knew that the man held his own insecurities just as anyone would, but she didn't like that he saw himself as being...diminished. She shook off the feeling and gestured to herself in a self-deprecating way. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have been in my heels on the ladder." Belle quickly slipped them off and set them near the book cart, demonstrating she'd learned her lesson. "Did you need something?"

Gold shook his head. "No. I came to give you these."

He dangled his car keys before handing them over. Belle raised a brow at the lone keychain, a repeating pattern of blue and green glass beads. It looked decades old to her eyes.

"You trust me to drive your baby?" Belle challenged him, her eyes flashing mischief as she tucked the keys into the pocket of her blazer.

Gold knew that look: she had been after him to let her get behind the wheel for months before he'd ever taken her into his home. Cheeky thing. "No joy rides, please. Just take yourself back to the house."

"You're not coming home tonight?"

It struck him, that slip of the tongue. The truth that Belle thought of his house, of living there with him, as her home. He gave a tentative smile. "I will be, I just won't be about to take you back to the house and it looks like rain. I'd prefer you to drive rather than walk back alone."

Belle put her hands over her heart, mocking a swoon. "Such a gentleman."

"Chivalry isn't dead just yet, Miss French."

Belle smiled. She loved this, the light banter back and forth that they shared, it was such fun. "Do you know when you'll be back? I can make a late supper."

"You don't have to trouble yourself." Gold told her as he turned out of the aisle, and she followed him barefoot out to the lobby.

"Really, it's no trouble. I like cooking for two. It'll be quiet eating dinner alone."

He didn't know what to think about that. On the one hand, he hated to think Belle would be lonely in the house tonight, while on the other he felt an inward thrill that she would miss him. It was so petty, but he couldn't help himself. It had been years since he'd been much missed by anyone.

The man cleared his throat. "I'll be very late. No need to wait up, Miss French, but I will make it up to you."

"I'll hold you to that, Mr. Gold."

___________________________________

Belle stepped into the kitchen entrance from the driveway, and leant back against the door. She took a deep breath and looked about, her eyes taking in the large empty table, the cleared counter, the bookshelves. It all seemed so still now without the man adding life to the house. His presence was a quiet one, but powerful.

Well. Reflecting back, Belle realized that today was the first time she'd been left alone in his house since that first day, when she'd spent hours cleaning up after the mess her father had left behind. She'd been too upset by the change in Mr. Gold and much too occupied with the cleaning to really appreciate or explore the house and all the treasures it held.

She took a deep breath and smiled to herself.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Gold, Belle had set up her iHome to play in a room she'd found upstairs, next to her bedroom. It looked like the room had been intended as a study, with bookshelves built into the walls and a modest fireplace. She knew Gold had a study on the first floor of the house and wondered if he had moved his study and for that matter, his bedroom, downstairs after whatever had happened to his leg made it more difficult to roam the house. He could manage well enough, she'd seen that for herself, but perhaps he didn't want to add to his troubles.

There were two wingback chairs framing the fireplace, a lounge sofa, and many books. Whatever this room had been before, it was an empty space now. Belle had noted the vacuum tracks on the floor, but instinct had told her Mr. Gold's cleaning service were the only people to set foot in this room for a long time.

Either way, Belle liked it, and hoped that Mr. Gold wouldn't be upset with her as she moved the chairs against the wall and pushed the lounge into their place. Setting up her music player, Belle felt content to have commandeered a bit more space for herself. Again, she had to remind herself that their arrangement wasn't permanent - this wasn't her home, she had no right to any of the space, but for the moment she felt free to enjoy herself.

Belle went to the bookshelves and found an out-dated encyclopedia set, a book of poetry by Burns - apparently he'd never really needed to check out _The Merry Muses_ when he had a copy at home all along - a few biographies, strangely, a few self-help books about "starting over", and the last was a photo album.

The woman couldn't help her curiosity, it drove her to flip through the photo pages. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, exactly, she just wanted to see Mr. Gold in his candid moments.

Belle smiled when she found him.

_There you are, Mr. Gold._

Looking closer, she found herself face to face with Mr. Gold, decades younger, in more casual clothing - _my God, he's in jeans!_ \- with shorter, dark hair. He was in the first photo with a dark haired woman wearing a sundress and sandals. They looked so happy.

There they were in a restaurant, at a beach - _Mr. Gold has a lizard tattoo on his shoulder?!_ \- and sitting on a pair of horses at what looked like a farm in the Highlands.

Could this be his wife, then? There were no pictures of them kissing or holding each other - this could have just been some old girlfriend from before he moved to America, or just a friend or female cousin or even a sister...not that he'd ever mentioned having a sister, but then Mr. Gold had never spoken much of the life he'd lead before Belle knew him.

There were pictures of the woman holding a baby; a small white dog; a modest Christmas tree; a group of children running what looked like a school relay race; an older couple with a toddler; Mr. Gold with a group of men, all of them raising beer steins in a cheers to the camera; the mysterious woman with a group of other women all dressed up as if to go out dancing; Mr. Gold posing with a young boy in a Polaroid picture with a hand-scrawled '1993' on the bottom.

 _Who is this?_ Belle thought the boy's face was familiar, somehow.

Taken with a guilty feeling, Belle replaced the pictures. Whatever they were, they were clearly private and Mr. Gold wouldn't have appreciated to know she'd been looking into his past. She replaced everything and went down to the lower level of the house, venturing into his study for a moment, but then losing her nerve, sure she was invading his privacy again. Instead, she went into the kitchen, ignoring the door to his bedroom altogether.

Following a recipe that had caught her interest, including his wife's hand-written note in the margin, Belle made a casserole and ate a bit, leaving the rest for when Mr. Gold came home.

There it was again, that word: home.

Belle looked about the house, beautifully decorated, filled with beautiful things. Lovely house, but so lonely, and to think that he'd lived here alone for so long...no wonder the man had jumped at the chance to keep her with him. She'd forgiven him for his strong-arming concealed as a deal, but it made more and more sense as time went on between them.

She explored the garden, then the rooms upstairs on the third floor, though they were all empty.

As the hour grew later, Belle went into her bedroom and changed into a pair of plain cotton lounge pants and a tank top, not her flashiest sleepwear but functional for what she intended in the room near the landing. She set up her music again and brought out a book, setting up a low fire.

Before she knew it, Belle had fallen asleep.

__________________________________

Gold took extra care to be quiet on entering his house; it was very late and he didn't want to wake Belle. Her room was upstairs and toward the back of the house, so there was little chance she would hear him but he would still rather leave her to sleep.

Locking the door behind him, Gold was intent to get straight on to his room, but paused at the foot of the stairs, his head ticked to the side as he listened. He could hear a voice upstairs - a _man's_ voice! Baring teeth in a silent snarl, Gold started up the stairs.

He and Belle had never discussed her taking an overnight guest while she stayed under his roof - they'd not set rules in that regard because it had never even occurred to him that she would think to do so, let alone that any man would be stupid enough to come into his house to claim her.

In the town's eyes, Belle was his willing captive, and thus untouchable - her father had been right, it _had_ been his intent. He'd taken it for granted that no other man would approach her, not now that she'd been marked as his. Well, he'd be happy to remind whoever it was upstairs that Belle was _his,_ only his, and any other man would lose a limb if they even thought to look at her.

He would kill the both of them for this disrespect!

Gold could hear the voice, but he slowed two stairs toward the second floor landing when he realized the voice was in actual fact, singing. Belle was being serenaded? At close to two in the morning? Gold narrowed his eyes and followed the crooning voice, not to Belle's bedroom, thankfully, but to his old study.

He hadn't put any limits on the woman, the house was hers as well. He found her inside, asleep on the lounge before the fireplace. Seems she'd rearranged some of the furniture. The voice he'd heard downstairs had belonged to Michael Buble, apparently, as Belle had set her music player to repeat the crooner's latest album, which included some spoken tracks.

Gold rolled his eyes at his own idiocy.

Belle hadn't seen him charge up the stairs like an attack dog, at least.

_Small blessing._

The woman was asleep on the lounge, facing a low flame in the fireplace. Wearing a pair of loose cotton pants and a plain white tank top.

Gold stood in the doorway, watching her sleep. The light of the fire cast her skin golden, her hair copper. He wanted this woman, the gods knew he did, but no dark urge to pounce her came over him as he drank in the sight of her there. Rather, his thoughts were tender. Belle French was so lovely, but more than her looks and shape, it was her spirit that compelled him.

Her sweetness, her intellect, that spark of sassy humor.

_Mine._

Drawn, he thought back to the night he'd found her asleep in the back of the shop, and couldn't stop himself from doing the same now as he had that evening, weeks ago. He moved into the room to approach her and sat on the edge of the cushion, his hip landing just beside her own. He reached forward and drew the backs of his fingers over the curve of her cheek. Warm, soft skin met his own, and he bit the inside of his lip, suppressing the urge to lean forward and kiss her.

Waking at the soft touch, the woman blinked, then rolled onto her back, to face him. As she turned, it became apparent that Belle had forgone a bra for bed, her breasts tightening under the thin material of her shirt. Gold glanced away and swallowed.

"Belle."

She blinked up at him, a sleepy smile gracing her face. "Oh, hello."

"Do you get very cold at night?"

"Hmm?"

Gold ticked his head toward the fireplace, "You lit a fire, you aren't cold at night are you? I'll bring more blankets to your room, you only had to ask."

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just that there's no fireplace at my apartment, I only lit it because I love the way it makes a room look. It's gorgeous, don't you think?" She asked, yawning.

He looked about the room and nodded. "Yes, it's very nice."

Belle closed her eyes and asked, "What time is it?"

Gold showed her his watch. "It's nearly two."

Still laying on her back before him, Belle raised her brows as her fingertips grazed the face of his watch, then lower, to the worn leather strap circling his wrist. "You've been out doing business all this time?"

He went very still, watching as Belle moved her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. Why she was doing such a thing, he had no idea but he would be damned if he was going to stop her. "This is later than I expected things to wrap up." He conceded. He stroked her palm with his fingertips, wanting more, always more.

Belle blinked heavily, "You do this often?"

"Not always, but you of all people should know that my business deals can sometimes be unconventional."

Belle snorted a quick laugh and moved to sit up, releasing his hand. Gold shifted back on the sofa to make room for her to curl her legs up to her chest. "You've got me there. So, did you get what you were after?"

He nodded, "Things ran smoothly, if a bit long. You were all right by yourself?"

"Dinner was too quiet." Belle told him, stretching her arms out in front of her. "Are you hungry? I can make you a plate."

Gold shook his head, hungry, but still in the habit of refusing kindness. "No, no, don't trouble yourself."

She waved off his dismissal, fully awake now. "It's no trouble, really. You need to eat something."

Gold had done this dance with Belle before, and knew she wouldn't let up until he agreed to whatever it was she wanted him to do. It would be bad news for him if she ever became a business rival. "If you insist, Miss French."

"I was really proud of this meal, so I do insist."

___________________________________

Belle watched as Gold set down his fork and dabbed at his lips with a napkin.

They had made their way downstairs from what Belle had rechristened the music room, and she had gone ahead in preparing the man a plate. It was no trouble to heat up the casserole and when she offered to pair it with a glass of the wine she'd opened earlier that night, Gold accepted and Belle joined him in a glass.

He'd eaten quickly, which she took as a compliment though her ego still needed the words. She smiled at him, "Tell me."

Gold sighed, totally content. "You've outdone yourself."

"Really?"

"Really. You're wasting your talents on me."

Belle shook her head at him, "You are not a waste, Mr. Gold."

"I met with someone tonight who would disagree with you."

"Then I don't care to know them, they obviously have no taste." She said, downing the last sip of her wine.

"It was our mayor."

"You've been out with Mayor Mills tonight?"

In a rush, many things that had been needling at the back of Belle's mind came together: Gold's frequent visits to the mayor's home, her own visits to him and their constant bantering innuendos and now, this confession of their late night meeting.

Inside, Belle felt her stomach clench into knots, and was unable to keep her voice completely steady with this realization. "Oh, I didn't know that you were seeing each other."

Gold looked up from his plate. "What?"

Belle took his hand between her own, giving him a reassuring squeeze. This wasn't about her - she couldn't make it about her, either. Not if he was hurting. "I'm so sorry. Please, what can I do?"

Inside, the woman congratulated herself for remaining in control. At once she'd felt a bolt of shock and hurt at this, that the man had been involved with Regina all this time, though why should she be surprised? Mr. Gold loved keeping secrets.

After that passed, there was an immediate rise of trepidation that he would come after her as a meaningless rebound since she was so close at hand. And of course, underneath everything was the hope that her time here hadn't been a complete waste of her feelings - perhaps she could make the man see that she was worth taking a risk...

All told, Belle was shaken but her immediate concern was for him, for how he must be hurting.

"Oh, you think Regina and I..." At this, Gold couldn't help but to laugh, deep and rich.

"Well, now that I think about it, it was staring me right in the face. I mean, she comes to your shop all the time and you're always visiting her and Henry...your break-up, was it because of my staying here?"

Still laughing, Gold shook his head, "Oh, no, you misunderstand. No, Regina and I...we have a history but it's not like that."

"I thought with the late meeting...I feel so stupid." She smiled and ducked her head, trying to hide her flush of embarrassment. Belle was sure that her cheeks were lobster red, but there was no denying her relief that Gold had not been intimately involved with their mayor. To know that he was, and in fact, had always been unattached put Belle back where they had stood with each other just minutes ago.

In a way, she felt that she had lost him for a glimpse of time, and now he was returned to her.

Misunderstanding or not, Belle wouldn't let him get away again if she could help it.

"Stupid is something you will never be, Miss French." Gold asserted. "No, we were just working out the sale on a piece of land."

Belle furrowed her brow, "Then, why so late?"

Gold smiled lightly, "Regina and I...well, we like the cloak and dagger bit. You know, meeting out in the woods in the middle of the night with a briefcase full of cash." He gave a quick pat to the case resting atop the table to his left. "Helps to keep life exciting."

"What, uh, what kind of history do you have with the mayor?" Off Gold's odd look, Belle scrambled to recover. "If you want to tell me, that is. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

Gold cleared his throat, "It's nothing that you would expect. This is decades ago, but I had a relationship with Regina's mother-"

"Are you...is Regina your _daughter?"_

Gold nearly spat his last sip of wine, but caught himself - this new bottle she'd brought to him was too good to waste. "No! I've only ever had one-" He stopped, catching himself. "No, Cora had already had Regina when we started seeing each other, though I was something of a father figure to her during the course of our relationship. We got along, connected. After things ended with Cora, I still wanted to help a bit with Regina. I still cared for her, after all. Cora allowed me to assist with her education as a mentor. Now she's second in power over this town only to me - hindsight, eh? I am proud, though."

"That's it? You're just friends?"

"Friends, enemies, rivals...it depends on the day, really." There was more to explain, so much more, but Gold wasn't in a mood to drag out his every secret where Regina and Henry were concerned.

"You're a strange, mysterious man, Mr. Gold." Belle smiled, touching his hand.

"I suppose I am, and you're an oddity yourself. A pleasant one." He added.

"Why thank you." Belle said, and reached for his dishes, but Gold waved her off.

"Leave them, you cooked so I'll clean up here."

"How about some tea, then?"

Gold brightened at that. "Have I ever turned you down?"

"I'll make the sleepy time blend." She said, and reached for the canister.

"I loved that - what did you call it, the maharaja chai? - from this morning. I think I've found a new favorite." He said as he rinsed his plate.

Belle set the tea to steep, happy that she had found yet another thing that she and Gold had connected over: unusual tea blends in addition to literature, history, art and mind games through the town. "I knew you'd like that one, I was going to give you the same I that I make myself in the breakroom of the library but I thought my strawberry blush blend would be just a bit too feminine for your taste."

Beside her, Gold washed, then rinsed the dishes and placed them on the drying rack. It was positively domestic. "Unless it's actually pink, I'll still have a taste if you have any left. I find it's been wonderfully beneficial to keep an open mind about things. So far you haven't lead me astray."

Belle removed the tea bags and set them aside, "You've really liked all of them?"

"I'm not known to lie." Gold said as he retook his seat at the table.

"No, you're just very creative with the truth."

"That I am." He conceded as she joined him at the table with two empty mugs and handed one over to him. "And as you're creative in the kitchen and bring me new tea blends, I can't let you go now."

"Ah. I'll forfeit my lease, then."

Gold dropped his eyes, turning the empty cup in his hands, "You could, you know."

Belle poured her cup of tea but looked up, unsure of what she'd just heard him suggest. "Hmm? I could what?"

Gold shrugged, feigning a casual disinterest in what he was asking her, this invitation to remain in his home. "Forfeit your lease, stay here. You'll save on rent. I've found I enjoy the company."

He flicked his eyes up to meet hers for a moment before returning to study the cup in his hands. Belle had kept on pouring the tea, allowing her cup to runneth over and flow onto the table in a small brown puddle.

She caught herself, moving to set the teapot aside on the heat mat. Gold reached forward to sop up the little mess with a few napkins, very conscious that she hadn't responded to his suggestion.

Belle took his cup, quickly pouring for him.

"I, uh, I hadn't thought you'd want me to stay much longer. Not after all my father said." She said quietly.

He raised a brow. "You heard about that?"

"This is Storybrooke." Belle said flatly. "I know he argued with you in front of the diner, just after I left."

"And of course Miss Lucas didn't waste any time telling you."

"No, not a second. She actually texted me while it was happening." Belle's cheeks burned, remembering everything her father had screamed for the whole world to hear. "Were you going to tell me what happened?"

"No. It should be clear by now that I don't care what your father, or what anyone else thinks of this. I care what you think, what you want." He told her, sincere. "I put you in a difficult situation by making you stay here. I shouldn't have taken that choice from you. You deserve better than that. I'll let you choose now."

"Are you trying to deal with me?"

At that, Gold looked up and returned her smile with one of his own. "Of course. Name your conditions."

Belle wanted to volley back a retort, but found herself yawning instead. "Can we save the negotiation for tomorrow?"

Still smiling, though a bit disappointed that his dealing would be postponed, Gold reached across the table and took her empty cup. "Off to bed with you, woman."

They stood as one, Gold holding their cups, destined to be cleaned in the sink, and Belle with empty hands, destined for bed but for one thing she wanted to do first. She moved to step in close for a hug and Gold set the cups back on the table. He reached for her, his free hand hungry to claim its place over her waist. But Belle surprised him again when he felt her hand on one of his cheeks and the soft press of her lips against the other. She pulled away slowly, Belle holding his eyes with her own.

She hoped he could see that she cared for him, both as his friend and more. She hoped that he would do something about it soon, but Mr. Gold was ever a man of words; he might be seeking her exact spoken permission, or perhaps he had so separated himself from the idea of intimacy that he was unable to express what it was he wanted from her...if anything. The thought crossed Belle's mind that he truly may only want her for her company and was only just tolerating her more physical way of conveying affection.

But it was nearing three in the morning now, and Belle was too tired to muse over the man any longer.

"Good night, Mr. Gold." She gave him one last smile before leaving the kitchen.

Gold watched as she swept up the stairs, his walking dream.

"Good night, Miss French."

They both wanted more than this, this delicate dance of attraction and mingled friendship.

They were tired of pretending, tired of wanting and waiting.

Mr. Gold feared the sins of his past.

Belle feared she was unworthy of a future spent together.

They needed more than Storybrooke could offer.

Unbeknownst to them both, an escape was waiting for them in Mr. Gold's inbox.


	25. Spark

Gold tapped his fingertips on the edge of his desk, pondering the message he'd received in his inbox. It was from a long-time colleague and friend, a woman he'd known going on nearly a decade now. Zelena Green was a sharp woman currently serving as the curator for the New York Museum of Modern Art; a position he'd long envied, and their mutual respect and interest had led to a series of trysts.

His pulse quickened at the memory of their last meeting. To say that Zelena could be inventive was a vast understatement.

They had actually met through her brother in Sunshire, Mr. Green's hope being to play matchmaker for his friend and his younger sister. Gold had tried with her, but the spark between them hadn't been enough to build a solid future.

Rather, they had kept in touch throughout the years, usually only seeing each other in person when she invited him to authenticate a piece, or when the museum had an exclusive opening she knew he'd like. The work was their primary focus, but it was always either followed or preceded by dinner and a night spent at her townhouse.

A very hospitable hostess, was Zelena Green.

_Hmm..._

It was just such an invitation that held Gold's attention now: it seemed that Miss Green had come across a piece that may be a fraudulent replica, and she required his intimate knowledge of artifacts from the Scottish region of Ayrshire to authenticate. Gold appreciated that she had faith he was the man for the job; it had been some time since he'd seen a piece from the homeland - determining if the artifact was genuine or not would be a fine test of his skills.

As it was, Zelena could not authorize the piece for transport to him directly; it would be more convenient if Gold came to the city and he noted that there was even the offer that the museum would pay double his usual consultancy fee if he could come at once.

Gold thought about it.

The amount of time it would take him away from his dealings in Storybrooke, what resources he would need to verify the artifact...but one thought kept him from an immediate response: Belle.

The man trusted her, but all the same didn't want to leave her alone. As mind-boggling as it was, she'd confessed to missing him when his work kept him from the house.

Well.

There was only one thing for it, really, and Gold was quick in typing his acceptance. Even as he hit 'send', he reached for his cell to call Zelena and confirm with her over the phone.

As for Belle, all that remained was her answer.

_______________________________

Unbeknownst to Gold as he spoke with his old flame, Belle had overheard a bit of his side of the conversation and she hadn't liked what she'd heard. His voice had taken on a purring edge, his accent curling around a woman's name, Zelena.

Belle had never been one to eavesdrop, but she hadn't been able to force her feet forward past his study at hearing him speak behind the closed door. The change in him had been distinct - a deepening of his tone, a flirting lilt. There was a silent, unseen smile in his voice.

_Zelena._

Who was she?

Belle had not stood outside his door to listen past him accepting some kind of invitation - "Oh, Zelena, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" - and she was left to stew in the kitchen.

_Zelena._

The name was exotic; a sensual name. Did the woman match? Was she some sultry beauty lingering in Mr. Gold's past? Belle went about making breakfast to share with the man, even though she brimmed with curious jealousy on the woman.

Idly, she built an image in her mind as she prepared a plate. An older woman, maybe in her mid-40s, caramel skin and long waves of ebony hair, flashing dark eyes and full lips curling into a smile that could entice any man.

She would be elegant, naturally. Mr. Gold would want nothing less.

Elegant, a natural temptress, flawless in her speech and movements.

Everything Belle aspired to be, but feared she could never achieve.

Was that the kind of woman Mr. Gold was speaking to?

Belle frowned to herself as she served herself tea and a light breakfast of honeyed scones and sliced melon. She was being ridiculous, fixating on some woman she imagined would steal Mr. Gold away, and all of her paranoid jealousy was only based on overhearing a handful of words.

 _Can I be any crazier?_ Belle wondered, pushing the thoughts aside. _Still. He has been talking to her for a good long while, now..._

She brought out a magazine from her tote and started to read, an obvious effort to distract herself as Mr. Gold's mug of tea cooled on the other side of the table.

______________________________

It was nearly forty-five minutes until Mr. Gold emerged from the study.

He was pleased with the conversation, flattered by Zelena's claim that only he had the expertise to assist her with the dilemma she now faced.

_"Please, there's no one else I can trust with this...you're an expert, I have full faith in your skills here..."_

It was her ploy, of course, to flatter his ego and charm him into agreeing to help. They had played this game before. He would have gone along in any case, but he couldn't let her think he'd become such an easy mark that he would drop everything just to attend her.

He had his own affairs to look after.

_And speaking of..._

Belle looked up from the _Glamour_ magazine she'd been skimming (an article on the benefits of organic body lotion) as Gold strode into the kitchen and paused in the doorway, hands folded over the handle of his cane.

"I have to leave for a few days, Miss French." He said plainly, before she could even greet him with a 'good morning'.

Casually dressed in a cream blouse and tight jeans, with her hair pulled up in a softly curling twist above the nape of her neck, she was the picture of comfort. Had he not agreed to help Zelena, he would have spent the day with her lounging about his newly restored living room.

Still, if she agreed to accompany him, then Gold could instead look forward to lounging about with her in a lavish suite at The Four Seasons.

_Fingers crossed._

"Business?" She guessed.

Gold moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water for himself. "Yes. You're welcome to come with me, if you'd like." He invited, his manner as coy as ever.

"This is very last minute, and you're just assuming I'm free. I have a date this weekend." Belle said crisply. An obvious lie, but what was the harm in being a bit petty when he was the one flirting over the phone for nearly an hour?

"Cancel it."

There was no mistaking the sudden command in his tone.

"Jealous?" She challenged.

"No." Gold blinked, smooth again. "Call it confidant. As in, I am more than confidant that I can give you a better weekend than _anyone_ you'll find in town."

"Oh? And why would that be?"

"My business is in Manhattan. You're coming with me."

The man said it so simply; an inarguable fact and a command she wouldn't dare refuse.

To have Belle to himself in a new setting, far from the subtle pressures of small-town gossip would be a relief they'd both enjoy. He took a sip, smug.

Belle's eyes widened in surprise at the offer. "New York City? You're serious?"

He nodded as he turned back to face her, fighting a smile to see that she was already excited. "Yes. But if you'd rather stay in Storybrooke for another weekend of Granny's burgers..."

Belle fought a smile of her own, nodding her acceptance. "I think I can move a few things around for you, Mr. Gold."

"And your date?"

She shook her head. "Oh, come on! You knew I didn't have a date."

He shot her a warning glare. "You'd better not."

A thrill ran down her back, but Belle let it go. "So, what kind of business do you have there?"

"A former...colleague of mine has come across a piece they fear might be a forgery. I have to make a trip to the Museum of Modern Art to authenticate it."

"I didn't know you did that kind of work." Belle said, impressed.

Pawnbroker, antique dealer, landlord, lawyer and now, it turned out he was also an expert in art fraud. For all Belle knew, he might be so well-versed in the field because he'd committed a few art crimes himself!

Gold only shrugged. "I don't do it often, but I'm called in on occasion if ever a doubtful piece comes across her desk. If I can identify something as fraudulent, they call the FBI."

"You work with the FBI?!" Belle gushed. "God, is there anything you can't do?"

"It's not as exciting as it sounds, it's just paperwork on my end." The man shrugged. "I've only met with one agent who leads the investigations. I don't chase the art thieves."

Belle refused to let him downplay his expertise as he always did. "Come sit down, you have to tell me about this. What was your first case? How did you know the piece was a fake and what was the FBI agent like?"

Gold didn't move to sit across from her at the table, he checked his watch instead. "Much as I'd like to, there isn't time. We need to pack."

Belle shot to her feet. "You want to leave today?"

"I want to leave in fifteen minutes."

He watched as the woman hustled out of the kitchen without a word, running past him and up the stairs.

Gold shook his head, amused by the woman's panic. He went into his room and made quick work of packing for the weekend. One suit, two sets of casual clothing, lounge pants for sleeping, a hygiene kit and the appropriate shoes.

Done.

As Gold zipped his garment bag, he could hear Belle's erratic footsteps upstairs. He hadn't given her much time but he was confident in her efficiency. The woman was capable, but she'd allowed her father to use her kind heart against her, smothering her potential and self-confidence.

No more of that; she was his now, he'd see her blossom into all she could have been if not for her father dragging her down.

He moved about the house, locking the back and front doors and windows, placing his bag in the trunk of the Cadillac. Just as he came back inside, Belle was coming down the stairs with her duffel bag.

He knew she didn't have much.

The meager entirety of her wardrobe was in that bag.

_I'll need to do something about that and I won't let her refuse me this time._

No.

He would earn his fee from the museum and then he and Belle would have the city to themselves. A holiday away from the petty gossips of Storybrooke. They would lose themselves in the crush of people in Manhattan.

God willing, they might finally lose themselves in each other.

Belle smiled at him, a thrill in her eyes. A hot flush had spread over her chest, throat and cheeks. He was a man who could read the signs. The woman was vibrating with excitement.

"Mr. Gold, I'm ready."

_Too right, you are._

Gold offered his arm, pleased that Belle allowed him to lead her out of town and on to a new adventure.

______________________________

The drive to the airport was short, the tickets already booked by Zelena's order upon his acceptance of her offer. With no checked baggage and no issues at security (other than Gold's irritation at seeing Belle being patted down by a handsome TSA agent), they were on the plane with time to spare.

"I've never flown first class before." Belle said as they sat down.

Gold had allowed her the window seat as he scrolled through the pictures Zelena had sent him of the artifact. "I don't fly out very often but when I do, it's the best option."

"The best, maybe, but not the cheapest." Belle couldn't help but remark. Last minute tickets to New York, first-class on a top luxury airline couldn't have cost anything less than $900.

Maybe not so expensive to a man of Mr. Gold's means, but the expense would have been far out of Belle's reach at such short notice.

Gold set his cell on the armrest between them, nodding. "True. I wasn't always so well off, you know."

"No?"

"No. My father served in the Scottish army, my mother stayed at home. We weren't poor, but we got on as best we could."

"They must be proud of you, all you've done."

"They died years ago." Gold informed her. "But they were proud enough when they went. I'm sure they would have something to say about my life as it's been lived since they died, though."

Belle touched his hand, she knew too much about losing parents. "I'm sorry you lost them."

Gold shook his head, distracted as the plane began to roll down the strip. "Thank you, but death is a fact of life. I've had to come to terms with that before."

Belle nodded, a thoughtful smile touching her lips. "All the more reason to enjoy life, right?"

The man nodded and rolled his hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers as the plane sped up and lifted into the sky.

"I agree. All the more reason to avoid flying coach if I can, and all the more reason to take an offer to work in the city. A change of scenery can be priceless."

"I couldn't agree more."

"I'm glad for that." Gold said, motioning to a stewardess. "Now, once we arrive I'm going to touch base with the museum. I may have to leave you at the hotel, but I'll push to have you come with me."

Belle furrowed her brows. "You want me to go with you to the museum? Why?"

She was fascinated by the man's work - her interest in it had been the touchstone of their friendship, after all - but she wasn't an art expert by any stretch of the imagination, let alone have the training or clearance to be anywhere near an art fraud investigation.

Once the plane leveled out, Gold took two flutes of mimosas from the stewardess and handed one to her. "This will be delicate work and I may need an extra pair of eyes to authenticate this piece. I only trust yours."

It was another of his compliments that made Belle feel on top of the world; Gold's trust was not easily won, and for good reason. He held fast to contracts because so many people tried to take advantage of his wealth - that he truly trusted her with assisting him in his work was no small thing.

"I'll help in any way I can."

Gold nodded cooly, masking his inner excitement. A long weekend spent with Belle, alone, without the shadow of her father's crime between them, freedom from the town's censure of their connection - there was only one thing to say: "Cheers, Miss French."

Belle lifted her glass to his in salute, and they both settled back in their seats as New York loomed before them.

_______________________________

They had landed in New York and the museum had sent a limousine to take them to the hotel. Belle had been thrilled at the treatment, while Gold had only been amused - this was Zelena's way of showing off to him, flexing her power with the museum's discretionary funds.

_Funny woman._

As the car weaved its way through traffic, Gold was soon irritated by the stiffness in his ankle, and thankful that Belle was too distracted with the scenery passing by the window to notice. He was so happy to have her in his life, and pleased to have provided this opportunity for her. She hadn't stopped smiling since leaving Storybrooke. After that humiliating debacle with her father, it was wonderful to see her shine again.

Rolling his ankle and biting the inside of his cheek, Gold was happiest that she hadn't noticed his discomfort. He hated to appear weak before her. Belle never seemed to pity his limp, and there was no way for him to hide it, but all the same he didn't like attention called to the old injury.

Gold checked his watch. It was still early in the day, not even yet noon. He would have time to see Belle to the hotel, attend his pain and catch up with Zelena before getting on with the work that had brought him here in the first place.

As for Belle, she felt a pleasant buzz in her blood from the airline's mid-morning mimosas, and she wasn't even hungry since breakfast had only been a few hours ago.

How could she even think of food when she was here with Mr. Gold? He'd swept her off to a weekend adventure without a word of warning - a first-class seat on the airline, a ride in a limousine, a weekend in New York!

No matter what the outcome between them, Belle knew this was an event in her life she'd never forget. She felt giddy, like a little girl all over again, but she tried to restrain herself before the man. Mr. Gold was here for his work, not to entertain her.

She had to remember that.

The limo pulled to the curb and bellhops were quick to take Mr. Gold and her own bag from the car, while the man lead the way into the lobby. Belle hoped she was misreading him, but he suddenly seemed impatient, irritable.

The woman took a deep breath to calm down, for all the good it did her upon setting foot inside the most beautiful building she'd ever seen!

Gold moved through the lobby of The Four Seasons hotel, ignoring the bright and beautiful surroundings, intent to check in and get up to the room. He had a call to make and wanted to take a painkiller - his ankle had started throbbing with each step.

Once he rested it and then dealt with Zelena and her trinket, well, then he would have Belle and the city to himself.

That thought alone was enough to lift his mood.

While he spoke with the desk clerk, Belle had paused in the center of the lobby, her eyes wide as saucers as she took it all in: sparkling crystal chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceilings above; the black marble floors with gold veining below; the large fireplace in the lounge; the baroque waiting sofas and mahogany coffee tables; the hotel workers bustling about with luggage trolleys; rich women, the trophy wives and mistresses of the rich men who roamed the lobby and the massive flower arrangements in a riot of colors...it was all so much more than she'd dreamed of, and so much more than Storybrooke could ever offer.

Mr. Gold had been right.

She caught the eye of a woman crossing the lobby floor, and they immediately sized each other up the way women are wont to do; the woman was dripping with labels and diamonds winked in the light on her earlobes, at her throat, on both wrists and several fingers.

Belle looked away, worrying her bottom lip.

It was awkward to be surrounded by so much flaunted wealth, and she was made painfully aware of her bargain brand clothes. She always made an effort with her look, whether at work or when she was off-hours, but she'd never be able to afford dressing for Mr. Gold's circle. Luckily he'd never seemed to mind her lower-end fashions. His gifts of clothing and shoes hadn't really been gifts, they'd been more like the props in his power play where she took center stage.

Belle looked about again, noting what the other women were wearing.

It was silly, really, to know that some of them had probably spent her yearly salary on a clutch purse - these women might have the money, but they were clearly lacking in common sense.

Glancing over, she saw Mr. Gold limping closer with two key cards in hand.

"Mr. Gold this place is just beautiful." Belle breathed as she took the key card he offered and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans.

He nodded, "Yes it's very nice."

"No, a Holiday Inn would have been nice, this place is gorgeous, I never thought I'd see a hotel like this outside of the movies!"

"You haven't even seen the suite yet." Gold smiled.

Belle gestured him forward, "Lead the way."

_______________________________

It was a quick, silent elevator ride up to one of the rooms on a higher floor - Gold would have preferred the penthouse but they were only in the city for a night or two and so had settled instead for a two-room suite. As impressed as Belle had been in the lobby, he knew she'd be thrilled with her room.

Gold opened the door and stood aside to let her pass into the suite first, subtly biting the inside of his cheek as his leg began its throbbing anew. Where were his damn pills?

Belle took in the lavish suite, from the chic furnishings to the subtle floral scent of the orchid bouquet set on the low coffee table. "This is..."

Gold shut the door behind himself and told her, "It's a suite. You can choose whichever room you prefer."

Belle bit back her flash of disappointment at that. She would rather have him hold her again. She lowered herself to sit in one of the chairs before the fireplace. "Well, we made it here. Now, what are we going to do with ourselves today?"

Knowing exactly what he'd like to do with Belle, Gold banished the thoughts and cleared his throat. "I'm going to make a call to Zelena, catch up a bit. We'll arrange a time to take an initial look at the piece today and I may be able to determine if it's a fraud right then and there. You're free to do as you like until then."

"You don't need my help?"

"Not just yet. If I can persuade the museum directors to allow you behind the scenes, then of course I want you there with me. If not, then I'll do what I can to authenticate this piece as quickly as I can. Our trip may end up being shorter than expected."

Belle smiled, hoping for the first time that he might be puzzled by the artifact's true origin so as to prolong their visit to the city. "Work slow, then. I'm in no rush to go back."

"Mmm. No, I'm sure you're not. I don't want to leave you bored, so here, in case you want to do your monthly ritual." Gold said, waggling his fingers at her with one hand and handing her a spa sheet with the other.

Belle glanced at the sheet, raising a brow that he had noticed her penchant for manicures. Every month she put a bit of money aside to treat her nails. It was a different color and finish each time, her every visit to Ariel's salon reminding her of the 'girly days' she and her mother once shared when the French family was still whole.

"Am I that obvious?"

Gold shrugged, "I have an eye for detail."

"A girl has to keep herself up, Mr. Gold." Belle told him, echoing her mother's saying from years ago. Stupid as it was, whenever Belle went for a manicure or splurged to get her hair done, she would wonder if Rose was doing the same thing in that moment, wherever she was in the world.

Gold reached for the painkillers in his pocket, reassuring himself that he hadn't left them behind at the house.

"You can do what you like and charge everything to the room."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Gold's cell began to ring then, and Zelena's name flashed across the screen. "It's her. Excuse me."

Belle nodded silently as he answered the call and shuffled off to the kitchen area. By now, she had surmised that Zelena was his point of contact at the museum as well as an ex-girlfriend, and stifled her sense of jealousy when she heard Gold's light flirting - "You booked our old room at The Four Seasons, Zelena, how could I have forgotten that weekend?" - over the phone.

He brought a bottle of pills out from his jacket and popped two, following with a gulp from a bottle of water. She left the man to his business and his pleasure, eager to explore the hotel and hold onto the hope that Mr. Gold would finish soon so they might explore the city together.

______________________________

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice." Zelena greeted him as soon as Gold made his way into the museum.

They were pleased to see each other, surely, but the work came first for them both. There would be time to catch up once his initial assessment was done.

As it was, Zelena was lovely as ever. Far from Belle's mental picture of her, Zelena boasted a fresh peach complexion, striking green eyes and a mane of red hair. It was her hair that had first drawn him in, shades of auburn and gold framing her face. He noticed she'd grown it longer than it'd been the last time he'd seen her, years ago.

Today she wore a professional wrap dress in a deep shade of charcoal gray, standing taller than him in a pair of nude peep-toe stilettos.

"My pleasure, Zelena. Where's the piece?"

Zelena nodded, all business. They were the same.

"It's right through here." She said, leading the way past a few exhibits and into the areas restricted to museum personnel.

Others were there, waiting for him, but Gold wasn't interested. She had asked for his help with the piece and Belle was waiting for him to return. He would do what he had agreed to do and then return to her.

Nothing more, nothing less.

_______________________________

It had taken several hours.

He had become so absorbed in the work that he'd not noticed the passing of time as he and Zelena put their heads together on the piece. She was one of the most clever women he'd had the pleasure to work with, but she had been well and truly stumped before bringing him in on the assessment.

They had lost hours together in the work before finding the tell.

Zelena had not been pleased when she'd needed to make the call; this was an embarrassment, a very costly embarrassment and it would be yet another feather in the cap of the FBI's favorite art forger and con man.

"I'm sorry, Zelena. I wish this had been genuine."

Hanging up the phone, content to wait for the lead investigator, she shook her head. "So do I, but it's best that we know now rather than find out later with the forgery splashed all over the news. The board will have no choice now but to take my suggestions for increased security measures more seriously."

Gold nodded. Now the work was finished, they could catch up. "How are you? Aside from this, I mean."

She blinked, seeming to remember him, their past friendship and fleeting romance. "Oh, I'm grand." She lifted her left hand to show her engagement ring, a round cut emerald surrounded with a halo of tiny bright diamonds.

Gold smiled. They were old flames, yes, colleagues, friends, and never missed the opportunity to flirt, but underneath all that, they truly did care. "Congratulations, Zelena, when did this happen?"

Zelena moved to sit across from him, relieved somehow to tell him of her new happiness. "Thank you. He proposed just two weeks ago. We were jogging in Central Park and when we stopped for a break by a fountain, he just dropped to one knee and asked me. I was so surprised, but I said yes without even thinking about it. Things just feel...right."

"Oh, I'm happy for you. Who is he?"

"You'll laugh when I tell you." Zelena smiled. "I joined a gym-"

"Please don't tell me you fell for your spinning instructor."

"No! Well, he offered to train me and that lead into all of this. And before you start in, I'll have you know that he owns his own chain of gyms that are doing very well. He's opening a fourth location at the end of the year!"

"That is impressive." Gold couldn't say anything if Zelena was to marry a man of ambition. She deserved no less. "And he makes you happy?"

"Oh, so happy. He's funny, he's clever, he's fit, of course, and he can cook!" Zelena gushed. She was bragging a bit, but she was newly engaged and happy as anything.

Later, as he'd looked out over the city from The Four Seasons balcony, Gold reflected on Zelena's smile and knew he was genuinely happy for his old flame.

He'd left Zelena at the museum to speak with the FBI agent - a straight-forward man Gold had met with a few years previously in similar circumstances - and returned to the hotel to find the suite empty. He wasn't concerned. Belle would be back soon, he had made plans for them tonight.

She deserved some fun, especially this weekend.

After leaving Zelena, he'd made several arrangements. Belle would be pleased.

Gold had put more care into planning their time here than he cared to admit, telling himself that he was only treating a friend to a nice gesture. The plans were no extravagance to him, but given Belle's fractured upbringing and small circle of friends, dinner and a show could mean the world to her.

The woman was so happy for the smallest things and it pleased him to make her smile, a pure pleasure to spoil her. He heard the door open and Belle's soft call for him.

"Mr. Gold?"

"Out here."

Belle stepped through the curtains to join him and gasped, "My God, what a view!"

In her eagerness to explore the hotel and take advantage of the spa, she had completely forgotten to take in the view from their suite.

Gold nodded, "It's one of my favorites."

Belle mimicked his posture and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the balcony railing. She looked out over the expanse of Central Park, taking care not to look straight down. She wasn't afraid of heights but she didn't need the reminder that all it would take was a little push to go over and hit the pavement from over fifteen stories up.

She looked over at Gold and realized he'd changed from the navy blue suit he'd been wearing earlier that day. He now wore deep charcoal trousers with a plum shirt and silver tie. She also noticed, with no small amount of pride, that he was wearing the tie pin she'd gifted to him. Gold wasn't the only one with an eye for details.

"Why did you change?"

"We have plans for tonight. You should change as well."

Belle didn't understand. "Why? Does the client have another piece for you to look at?"

"No, that business is done with." Gold tapped the balcony railing. "Turns out it was a forgery by Neal Caffrey."

"You know who did it?"

"Yes, he's made a name for himself in forgeries and dealing in stolen art. He's very good for a young man in this game. Perhaps that explains his arrogance. He left his signature, seems he couldn't resist leaving a calling card. We almost didn't catch it."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to seeing a bit of home."

"In a way I would have liked to, but Scotland hasn't been home to me in decades. Storybrooke is home. But you and I, we're in the city now, so let's enjoy it. Starting with dinner." Gold invited.

Belle hesitated, worrying her bottom lip as she mentally ran through her luggage and found herself limited to her slacks, jeans and plain tops - hardly worthy of New York's night life.

"I didn't bring anything nicer than this to wear." She told him, gesturing to her outfit. Mr. Gold's suit would get him anywhere, but their options were limited if he wanted to go to one of those New York restaurants that had dress codes like in the movies.

"All you need for tonight is in your room."

Belle raised her brow. "You bought me clothes?"

"I might have had a few things sent over." He said noncommittally.

Really, the man had no idea what he'd bought her. He'd only made a call to a boutique at Zelena's suggestion. After telling of her fiancé, she had been happy to learn that Gold had brought his own special someone with him to the city.

He had given them Belle's coloring, her height and his best guess at her sizes. The woman he'd spoken to over the phone had reassured him that they would take care of everything. It was the rare instance where he'd made a blind purchase, but he had faith in the boutique. For the cost of the package, they had better have come through on their end.

"This is all very _Pretty Woman."_ Belle said as she moved away from the balcony, excited to see what he'd had delivered.

"I'm not sure I like that comparison." He called after her as she slipped into her room.

Belle would have called back some smart remark had she not been so keen to see what she was to wear that night. Though not being crazed for labels (how could she, with her bank balance?), Belle liked to dress up as much as any woman did when given the opportunity.

Gold had only ever seen her in her simple work clothes, his pajama shirt and, regrettably, Ruby's painted-on scrap of a dress. Belle was excited for this chance to dress up, and eager for Mr. Gold's compliments. That man had a way with words that could lift her spirit like no other.

Belle was quick in sorting it all, from the dark sapphire silk dress and black stilettos to the lace undergarments that had her wondering if the boutique had sent them along or if Gold had specifically requested them. It was arousing to think that he would know exactly what she wore beneath the dress, beautiful lace and silk chosen just for her.

She put it all on, smoking her eyes, delighted to see how luminous they appeared.

She came out of her room just as Gold was straightening his tie in the mirror above the fireplace mantle, having put on his suit jacket. He looked at her, his eyes going dark in that way that she recognized and adored.

He said nothing, but moved forward. Belle stood still as he neared and turned a slow circle around her, his assessing presence tightening her skin, a shiver running down her back.

"Something's missing."

That was not the response she'd been after. "No, I went through all the bags. This is everything."

He shook his head, reaching to lightly tug on a curling lock of her hair. "Could you wear your hair up for tonight?"

After all he'd given her, Belle would do anything he asked. Pinning her hair up was nothing. "Of course."

"Then you'll need this."

Gold reached into his breast pocket, withdrawing a slim black box. Belle opened it to find a golden hair comb in the shape of an elegant laurel, tiny diamonds and midnight sapphires studding the edges of its leaves. "I...Mr. Gold, I can't-"

"You can. It's yours. Please, Belle."

That he'd used her name was enough to convey his earnest meaning to her, and Belle accepted this, his grandest gift without anymore fuss. Belle twisted her hair into an elegant chignon, and Gold watched as she slipped the jeweled comb into the mass.

"Perfect." Gold offered his arm, and Belle was too glad to take it.

________________________________

Belle enjoyed being on Mr. Gold's arm as they left the hotel, the assumptions she knew people were drawing about them - that they were lovers about to have a night on the town. It was a half-truth she hoped to make whole by night's end.

Zelena had authorized the free use of the limousine for the weekend, so thankfully Gold only had to make a call and the car was ready rather than having to flag down a taxi. Quickly, he gave the driver the address of a restaurant where he wished to take Belle for dinner.

Gold guided her inside and they were immediately shown to a table, greeted by other guests as they moved.

"They all know you, do you own this place?" Belle asked once they were seated and given menus. He owned restaurants in Storybrooke, it was natural to assume his business interests extended to New York.

Gold shook his head, "No, I just know the owner."

That much was true; he did not own the restaurant but for all intents and purposes he did own the owner through a series of contracts and debts that Gold had meted out through the years. Jerome Walton had always made his payments on time, sometimes even early, as he knew all too well that Gold would not hesitate to collect what he was owed through force.

"Why were they looking, then? Everyone seemed to recognize you."

Gold smirked and tasted his drink, compliments of the owner. "Don't play coy with me tonight. They were looking at you, Miss French. I usually come in alone."

"You've been alone for a long time." She stated. It wasn't a pitying or judgemental comment, Belle was only stating the truth.

"Yes, until recently."

Belle smiled, and grazed her foot against Gold's inner calf under the table.

_______________________________

It was hours later, and Belle felt as though she had been pulled through a whirlwind, a storm of New York coupled with Mr. Gold. Their dinner had been a delicious affair, made all the better when Gold had introduced her to the restaurant's owner and he'd made no effort to correct the man's assumption that she and Gold were together.

Gold had left his stoic manners behind in Storybrooke; more than just the small touches to her hand and the small of her back, Belle found herself flushing hotly as his hand found its way to the dip of her waist as they walked, or his fingertips would graze the length of her bare arm leaving gooseflesh in its wake, and perhaps best of all, there was the brightness of his eyes each time he met her gaze as the night went on.

The restaurant had been wonderful, from her meal and drink right down to the special creme brûlée that Mr. Gold had ordered for them to share. Belle had forgotten the dessert since their first day in Sunshire. As then, they'd relished the _crunch_ of the caramel shell and the sweet custard underneath.

Following dinner, Gold had had the limousine take a leisurely route through the city to show Belle a few sights: Wall Street, the Empire State Building, Times Square. Their suite at the hotel overlooked Central Park, and Gold wanted to take her through it the next day, maybe sketch her picture at one of the fountains or on a bridge if she would allow it. Certainly he wanted to take her to 5th Avenue; Belle had refused his gifts in Storybrooke, but he wouldn't allow her to be so stubborn as to refuse a gift to mark their trip to the city.

Their first trip of many, he hoped.

And then, just as they had reached the end of their tour and Belle had naturally assumed their night was over, Gold had directed the limousine to Broadway.

Tickets to _The Phantom of the Opera_ were waiting for them.

Gold usually wasn't one for musicals or plays, but tonight, for Belle...

Hours later, the pair had made their way back to the hotel. A bit tired, relieved to be alone after spending so long in the crush of the crowd. It had been liberating, however, to simply be together, to enjoy each other without looks of censure or malicious gossip following them everywhere.

Here, they were just a man and a woman. Together for a night.

On entering the hotel, giggling like idiots over some joke he'd told her in the elevator, Belle had slipped into the room she'd claimed to remove the stilettos she'd bravely worn all night - the slight pinching of her toes aside, the night had been perfect.

She came back out to the center living room of the suite. Mr. Gold had left his jacket on the sofa and gone out to the balcony. Belle didn't think twice about joining him there.

On finding him, she'd also found that he had ordered a bottle of champagne to the room. It was there on the balcony table, chilling in a bucket of ice, waiting for them.

"You think of everything, Mr. Gold." Belle said, feeling light and giddy.

Gold shrugged as he popped the cork and poured them each a glass. "A man tries, Miss French. To New York."

"To tonight."

Belle clinked her glass to his, keeping her eyes locked with his gaze. A thrill rushed through her to see his eyes were as hot as her own.

_________________________________

Belle sipped at her champagne, turning to her friend as he poured a third glass for himself. She was still on her second. They had talked, laughed at small things through a fizzing haze of arousal and giddiness. The freedom here was an addiction; Belle had touched him freely, being more open than she ever had in Storybrooke, even when they'd been alone. Gold was a changed man as well, she'd never seen him so...so playful! Perhaps it all was due to the champagne, but Belle was too happy to care.

They enjoyed their drinks with Manhattan laid out before them.

After a natural lull in their conversation, the man had started humming _Prima Donna_ and Belle was enjoying his voice. She had never heard him hum. If Gold so chose, he could impress Belle with his singing voice though he hadn't sang since...oh, who remembered?

He was content with the champagne fizzing through his blood.

And Belle.

Hadn't he always thought of her as champagne come to life? So bubbly and bright and sweet. Such a woman, and _his his his!_

He glanced over when he felt her give a light tug to the gold garter band on his sleeve. Belle liked him better this way; still in keeping with his more formal style, but less closed off, more open and relaxed. She knew no one in Storybrooke would recognize him like this.

"Mr. Gold, this trip has been...there are no words." She had tried to find the right words to express her gratitude, but _amazing, lovely_ and _terrific_ couldn't do it justice.

"You've had a nice time?" He asked as he replaced the bottle in the ice bucket.

"You already know the answer to that question." She said, nudging him in the ribs once he'd retaken his place beside her on the balcony.

New York stretched out before them, ever awake.

"I know, but I still want to hear it." He told her, that playful hint in his voice as he nudged her in return.

Belle didn't begrudge him the words, it was the complete truth. "This has been the most wonderful day I've ever had. It's been pure magic."

"A good birthday, then."

She blinked in surprise. "You knew?"

"Yes. Thirty is a landmark year, I thought you should celebrate it in style. I recalled the date from your citizen petition on reopening the library." He said easily. Little did Belle know that her birthday weekend had only just started.

"That feels like so long ago now."

"It's been just over a year." Gold mused. It didn't feel as if so long a time had passed since the reopening, but he couldn't deny the calendar.

"You're right, we're only a month or two past our anniversary." Belle agreed, nudging him again.

"That's true, we've had a-" Gold stopped himself when there was a knock at the door.

He stepped away from Belle for a few moments to deal with room service, returning to her on the balcony. He'd almost forgotten about this last surprise of the night, small as it was. "I called in a delivery for you, Miss French."

He brought the plain take-away box out from behind his back, and presented it to Belle. "Happy birthday."

Belle opened the little box to find a cupcake, a perfectly simple lemon cupcake from the famous Magnolia Bakery.

She stared at it, speechless.

Gold watched, confused as to why she'd frozen and hadn't said anything. "Miss French?"

He touched her arm and Belle looked up, surprising him with her eyes overflown with tears. Without a word, Belle stepped in close to the man and pressed her lips to his. This was not a fleeting peck of a kiss; Belle molded her lips to his, her fingertips lifting to rest softly just against his jaw. Later in the night he would swear he could still feel the imprint of where she'd touched him.

He moulded his lips to meet hers, his eyes slipping closed. Her hand on his jaw was hot, her soft lips much hotter, sweeter.

The kiss was over too soon; before he could lift a hand to her waist or fully pull her into his arms, Belle eased back from the man, opening her eyes to look at him, her expression open with thanks and love. "I'm...good night, Mr. Gold."

Gold inclined his head as she turned in retreat to her room, "Good night, Miss French."


	26. Inferno

Gold followed Belle with his eyes, watching as she crossed the main suite, pausing in the doorway of her room to look back at him over her shoulder. Then, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

The man stood, rooted to the spot.

After thanking him for a wonderful day in the city, she had kissed him. Her lips had been sweet, her mouth soft against his own. A kiss too fleeting, a kiss too quick. Gold blinked, and pressed his fingers against his lips. He had learned early on that his touch was nothing compared to the touch of a woman.

But she wasn't just any woman.

She was Belle.

She was his.

Her kiss, the sway of her hips as she'd walked back to her bedroom and that last look she'd given him at the door was as clear an invitation as Gold needed. Any doubt he'd felt over Belle's feelings for him were lifted away.

The woman wanted him.

He knew it as a man.

He knew it down to his bones.

But something kept him standing on the balcony, it stopped his impulse to charge over to her door and overwhelm the woman at the threshold.

Why was she inviting him?

Was it out of some sense of obligation after he'd given her such a day? Did she mean to repay him for his gifts with her body? What would happen if he were to go to her now? Their friendship, their connection - he treasured it above all else in his life.

Going to her now could risk everything they had. If he were to cross that line, take her, then Belle could turn away from him, revile him for ever thinking he had a right to her bed. He couldn't do it, he had to restrain himself from -

_Nah, fuck that._

Gold gulped down his champagne and tossed the glass over his shoulder, not caring as it shattered onto the street so many stories below.

He was done thinking, done worrying and done with waiting.

He crossed the main suite and paused before Belle's room, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

The man gathered his courage, lifted his cane and used the handle to tap on the door.

______________________________

For her part, Belle had hardly kept herself in check after kissing the man and retreating to her bedroom. She swiped away the tears on her cheeks. It was such a small thing, a lemon cupcake, but the meaning behind it was what had brought her to tears.

Mr. Gold cared about her in a way no other man ever had.

She'd had no thought to mention her birthday to him, but he had recalled the date and given her a wonderful night. The man expected nothing in return, but tonight, this night most especially, Belle wanted to give him everything of herself.

Belle loved him, she loved him and she didn't even know his name!

It was a special kind of madness, but it didn't matter, it wasn't important.

Belle loved him as her friend and wanted him as a man - tonight, now, right this very moment.

Her pulse quickened at the thought as she prepared herself.

_Come to me, Mr. Gold. This can be our night._

Quickly, she set the cupcake aside on the dresser. Her stomach was too knotted in anticipation to crave the sweet treat.

She craved only him.

She'd kissed him and all but invited him to follow her to the bedroom. Mr. Gold was not a man who would respond to a woman throwing herself at him; his ego might be flattered by such a display at first, but his respect would waver over anything so vulgar.

Belle had conveyed her want with the kiss and the smile in her eyes when she'd looked back at him.

 _Please, please, let it be enough._ Belle begged silently as she slipped off the stilettos he'd gifted to her earlier in the day. Then, she slipped the jeweled laurel comb from her hair, thankfully letting her hair down. She ruffled it to fall forward over her shoulders, knowing he liked it that way.

_I love him so much as my friend, but we can't go on pretending that that's all we feel._

_There's more, I know it._

Belle wrung her hands together and sank down to sit on the edge of her bed in the near dark. The only light in the room was that which shined through from the city out her window.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, and waited for the man to come to her.

The wait did not take long.

______________________________

Gold planted his cane before him after tapping on the door, the last barrier between them. He cleared his throat, waiting for her answer. He stood, listening to the hard pulse thundering in his ears. It was a singular sensation, this; he felt both hot and cold in the same instant. He was nervous yet calm, full of lust yet still in control of himself.

They had let this go on too long - he may not bed her this night, but their dance on the line between friendship and lovers would come to an end. Even if Belle refused him, she would not find sleep without learning the truth of how he felt.

He inhaled a deep breath to strengthen his resolve as he went on waiting before the door.

He knew Belle would answer, she had to. She wouldn't have started this only to turn him away now. She wasn't the type to toy with a man that way. She wasn't so cold, no, Belle was a warm woman. She was the only real warmth in his life, she had to-

Belle opened the door, the light from the main suite spilled into her room, illuminating the bed behind her. They stood, simply looking at each other.

Her bright blue eyes, so full of hope.

His deep brown eyes, so full of longing.

Belle, the brave one, reached for him. Her hand came over his on the cane, and she gave him a small smile.

"Come to bed, Mr. Gold."

______________________________

Three steps forward, and Gold was in Belle's room. Darkness enveloped them both as she closed the door behind him. He watched her reach for the light, but he caught her hand in his.

He could be brave tonight, but he was bravest in the dark.

Gold pulled her closer, and dipped his head down to capture her lips under his.

God, the taste of her.

The feel of her hands lifting to rest on his chest, smoothing up to rest on his shoulders and higher still, her fingers spearing through his hair. Heat was rising in them both, Gold licked at the seam of her lips, thrilling when she opened for him. They tasted each other, blood burning through their veins.

Gold's hand had come to rest on her waist, but lowered to her hip to draw her forward, in to him. So soft, so warm. God, was this truly, finally happening?

He prayed so.

He prayed for her love, a happiness they might find with each other.

Belle moaned, a sound of perfect wanting that he echoed softly, and Gold pulled back to give them both a chance to catch their breath. He did not release the woman, however, he held her close and, after a moment, dipped his lips to hers once again. He sipped at her lips, so pleased to feel them curved in a smile, then moved to kiss his way along her jaw, to her left ear.

Breathing hard through his own heady arousal, Gold captured her bare earlobe in his teeth and gave it a light tug. Her hands clenched on him, her golden nails digging into his scalp in the most delicious way. The soft gasp from Belle was a beautiful sound to hear, a thrill to his male pride.

She had invited him to do this, no other man held her, no other man kissed her. No one but him, and Gold would fight to keep it this way for as long as he could.

He brought her closer still, until their chests pressed together. The thrum of **mine mine mine** pulsed through him, and Belle's heart responded with a joyful **yes yes yes!**

Gold moved to her pulse point, then down her throat, to the soft hollow between her collarbones. Lips kissing her gently as his tongue soothed the nips of his teeth.

He despised men who would raise a hand to a woman, but this was different. There was a dark need inside of him, it was buried under civilization's manners and the solitude he'd kept for years, a need to bite at Belle's throat, to suck hard at her flesh until a mark formed on her skin.

His mark. His claiming of her in the basest way.

Mr. Gold could pretend to be above such things all he wanted, but underneath everything he was still a beast.

A beast who longed to claim his mate.

He kissed her throat again, then nuzzled her, breathing in her scent as his hand lifted to stroke up and down her back. So wonderful, all he'd hoped for but not enough, it would never be enough.

Belle felt as if she was drowning when Gold bit her earlobe, and she held him close in a silent plea for more. Sharp arousal washed over her in simmering waves. It pebbled her skin, tightened her breasts and clenched her stomach.

No more hesitation, no more interruptions or second-guessing.

Tonight was their night.

Belle bent her head forward to kiss the man again, giving him her mouth to taste and plunder. His hand smoothed down her back to cup her backside, bringing her firmly against him now, forcing her to feel the effect she had on him, the proof of his arousal for her, only her.

_Oh, God, yes._

Belle pressed in to him, soft pulsing movements of her hips to convey her pleasure. She pulled her mouth from his to taste his throat, kissing and biting as he'd just done to her. She felt him shiver at the sharp nips of her teeth, a rumbling growl in his chest. They weren't people any longer. Civilization was falling away, rendering them wild things in heat.

As Belle's mouth was occupied with Gold's throat, her hands had found their way to loosening his tie. The silk slipped to the floor and he didn't care. Thankfully his suit jacket had been left in the main room of the suite upon their return from _Phantom._ Nimble fingers slipped five buttons free of his shirt before the man had even noticed.

Gold pulled back, breathing hard.

In the dark of her room, Belle couldn't see how beautifully disheveled he was but she could well imagine that none in Storybrooke would recognize him now. A man brimming with passion, half-undressed and ready to stake his claim.

And Belle?

She was done being the lonely girl, she was a woman ready for her man.

Rather than go on parting his shirt, she reached instead for his cane. Gold let her take it from him, and grasped her arm to assist his balance. She held fast to him, her hand cradling his elbow as he kept a light hold on her bicep. He needed her, she would be his strength now.

"Belle, I-"

She leaned his cane against the footboard and turned back to him. "You won't need it."

Her meaning was entirely clear, and she returned to unfastening the line of buttons on his shirt. Like the tie, it slipped down to the floor, leaving the man in a plain black undershirt. Gooseflesh errupted over his arms at being exposed to the air. To be undressed by a woman was one of life's greatest pleasures and God, how he'd dreamed of this.

Gold pressed his forehead to hers as happiness coursed through him.

He had always been happy with Belle, but to hold her, to have her like this rather than enjoying her company during one of her fleeting visits to the shop...a part of him may miss that simplicity between them, but he would keep her here, always.

Gold shifted his head and began kissing her again, his mind sinking away to nothing. All was sensation, all was the scent, the heat of the woman in his arms.

Boldly, Belle reached between them, cupping him through his trousers. Gold gasped out a strangled hiss under her touch, at once hating and loving the feel of her hand on him. Belle smiled against his mouth, thrilled to see her stoic friend come undone at the touch.

Gold nipped her lip in response, some playing little reprimand.

_Sly minx._

He reached around the woman, to the back of her dress, his hands eager in their search for the zip that would free her.

Luxuriant silk it was, and suited her so perfectly, but Gold couldn't think, he couldn't care less for what she wore - his blood was boiling, he couldn't even breathe with Belle's hand on him. The dress had to go, he couldn't feel enough of her, he couldn't see anything of her so long as the damn dress was in his way.

_Ah._

He'd found the zipper at her back and hurriedly dragged it down, then pulled the garment forward, letting it pool at her feet. Belle stood before him, clad only in the black lace set the boutique had delivered to the hotel. Matching lace top stockings curled over her thighs.

With the light coming in from the window, Gold could only just make out the shape of her, but perhaps that was for the best. Fully seeing her now may well and truly finish him.

Still, a part of him cursed his fear - had he been brave enough to let her switch on the light then he could see her now, but instead he'd kept them in the dark to save himself her pitying look when she saw his ruined leg and scars.

There would be time for that.

Time for everything.

Belle reached to his waistband, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his trousers and letting them fall to join her dress on the floor. He stepped out of his shoes and socks, and all at once, the man stood before her in his black t-shirt and matching black boxer briefs. Belle felt her heart hammering inside her chest, knowing that soon, very soon, they would know every inch of each other.

Gold held her close, needing her for balance and wanting her for so much more.

She stepped in closer to him, pressing her breasts against his chest as she tipped her head up to kiss him. They were standing near the bed now, and ready, so ready. Gold guided her back to the edge, wordlessly easing the woman to the center of the mattress where he moved in to join her. They laid there, facing each other, breathing hard. His hand stroked over her flank, from the dip of her waist to the slope of her hip and back again. Back and forth, his touch a calming stroke. Belle closed her eyes, focusing on the hot imprint of his hand on her skin.

Gold watched as she settled, her breath was coming more evenly now. Good. He didn't want her to feel overwhelmed into anything she didn't truly want from him tonight.

The man didn't want to slow things now. Every instinct was screaming at him to dominate the woman, to mount her now and find his pleasure in her body. Blood thundered through him, hot and hard, but he owed it to Belle to ease back, to let her set the pace. She was his mistress, his queen. If she wasn't ready, if she wanted to end it now, then he would accept her choice...never mind that such a denial might finally trip him into the realm of the maniac.

However, if Belle was ready to fulfill the silent promise she'd given him with her kiss on the balcony, then Gold would give her everything of himself as a man. There was something to be said for experience; he knew ways to give a woman her pleasure. Belle would not regret taking him as her lover tonight - but it was her choice.

He shifted his thigh forward, nudging it between her legs to press against her there. Belle gasped, and to his delight, she clasped to him and slid her hips along his thigh, seeking pleasure. He could feel the wet heat of her, the lace between them the only barrier standing against their skin.

His hand was still smoothing up and down her flank, and his fingers clenched on the rise of her hip. Gold leaned forward to kiss her temple, her forehead. "Belle, are you sure you want - mmph!"

Belle didn't let him finish the question, her hands had moved to the collar of his shirt, pulling him over as she rolled onto her back, trapping his good leg between her thighs to hold him in place atop her.

Gold was surprised by the move and thrilled by her strength. Her kiss was suddenly ferocious, her hands cupping his face as she moved underneath him. She spread her legs, angling her hips so that his arousal pressed firmly against her.

Instinct was rising in the man, he couldn't stop himself from moving against her, dragging the length of himself back and forward between her legs, mimicking what was so soon to come. Belle could feel every inch of him, selfish pride surging through her to know the man was hard and undone for _her._

Belle leaned her head back, inviting him to attend her throat again. Gold knew what she wanted and fisted his hand into her hair, forcing her head back in a show of his dominance that thrilled Belle to no end. She craved it, and felt her pulse hammer anew as he moved his lips to her neck, sucking her skin harder than before, hoping her fair skin would show kiss-bruised in the morning.

Belle took his hand and guided it to her bare breast. Gold inhaled against her neck, breathing her in as his hand cupped the flesh. His friend was so sly, she had somehow slipped free of the black lace just moments ago and he hadn't even noticed.

Her breasts were soft and small, as he preferred them, the plump flesh just filling his hand. Softly, he cupped her, gently kneading her. Her breasts belonged to him now. Everything, all of Belle belonged to _him._

Gold moved down her body to taste her breasts, licking at the space between them, kissing the mounds themselves, then tasting the pink tips. Belle gasped beneath him, but she needn't worry. Gold was careful, so careful, as he took each nipple between his teeth, just grazing the sensitized peaks.

He lifted his head to watch her face as he stroked her nipples with his fingertips, purposefully keeping his touch light, too light to give her any satisfaction. Belle was breathing hard again, her eyes closed and a tiny frown had formed on her brow.

Gold smiled. He knew she wanted more.

Suddenly, he pinched a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, delighting as Belle cried out from the shock of the sharp touch. Her legs clasped harder around his waist, her hips rocking more firmly against his aroused flesh, still tucked firmly against her core.

"Belle, tell me." He coaxed her, nuzzling her throat.

Not to be outdone, Belle reached between them, her hand slipping under the waistband of his underwear, and she wrapped her hand around him, holding firmly. The man dropped his head, groaning something that sounded like "Sweet Christ!" into her shoulder.

She tightened her grip on him just so, then released him, both hands lifting to rest over his shoulders. "No more waiting."

Shifting to loom above her, a dark shape silhouetted by the light coming in from the window, Gold lowered his face to hers. He kissed her soundly, and Belle tightened her hands on him.

God, such a day this had been for them.

"As my lady wishes."

The reminder of their simple friendship was enough to lighten things between them, both laughing softly for a moment before Gold kissed her again.

Belle felt herself drowning in lust and happiness as his mouth plundered hers, his lips moving down to her throat to lick and suck at the tender flesh there.

She held him against her, writhing her hips to his, wanting more, more, more, damn it! The man did not lift his mouth from her throat, instead murmuring thick words into her flesh.

"Belle, what do you like? Tell me."

She thrilled to answer him in action, placing her hand over his and moving it down her body. Her breast missed his skilled caress, but it would not want for him for long. Belle guided his hand down, over her ribs, the curve of her waist and womb, until they both gave a harsh gasp when his hand cupped the wet heat between her thighs.

Gold pressed his forehead to hers and groaned, need burning through his veins. Through the black lace of her panties he could scent her arousal, feel the proof of her want.

"Oh, Belle..."

He stroked her and Belle canted her hips against his hand in a silent plea. For all Belle's chatter, she was a woman of few words in the bedroom. Gold kissed her as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. Eager, Belle lifted her hips off the bed to assist him.

"Please..." She whimpered against his ear.

Tossing the lace aside, Gold resettled beside her and took a deep breath to marvel at the turn this night had taken. In the space of an hour, he'd gone from merely wishing Miss French a happy birthday to having Belle naked and waiting for his touch.

_This woman..._

Gold dipped his head to kiss her as her hand guided his to seek her flesh, and a hard shiver raced over his skin as his fingertips found her. Belle gasped against his mouth, biting his lip as she showed him how she played on her softness.

Distantly, she was reminded of the countless instances where she would touch herself, imagining his hand in place of her own. But this wasn't some imagined scenario in the shower or in bed; this was real, the man touching her was real, it was truly him and he was _hers._

He stroked and caressed her before dipping a finger within, soon joined by a second. Belle panted under his hand, twisting her hips as he curled his fingers forward. He touched something within, something Belle had only heard about through Ruby's gossip but had never felt for herself when she'd been with the men in her past.

She cried out as his mouth fell upon her breasts and his fingers worked between her legs, his lips sucking at the plump flesh of her chest, daring to graze the tips with his teeth in gentle pinches.

Belle twisted against his hand, writhing, chasing that rush of pleasure, to finally lose control, to run wild-

"No! Not like this."

At her plea, Gold stopped, lifting his lips from her breasts and stilling his hand, "You don't like it?"

Beneath him, Belle struggled to catch her breath even as she lifted her lips to his in a deep, charged kiss to reassure him. "No, I love it."

A surge of pride flooded through him anew. Through his decades as a lover he had learned to please his women, proving himself a man to Belle was paramount tonight.

Gold quirked his mouth in a shade of a smile, and gave her flesh another stroke with his fingertips. He loved this, how freely she showed the effect his touch was having on her. It was addicting, to have this power over a woman. Belle gasped but reached between them and stilled his hand, forcing it away even as her core screamed in outrage at the loss of his touch.

"No, no, I'm close...but I don't want it this way. It has to be you."

Such simple words, but to the man her declaration was as powerful as any claim of love.

He understood.

Gold eased back and reverence washed over him as Belle shifted ever closer, divesting him of his underwear as he'd just done to her. She slipped the boxer briefs down his legs, thankfully not choosing now as the time to ask after the injury that had left him limping for the past two decades.

They knelt before each other on the bed, and he watched her face as best he could in the near dark. Belle's eyes rested over his erect manhood for a moment before touching him again. It was different, this. There was no barrier between them, her hand unrestricted by the confines of his clothing. He breathed heavily, air escaping him in harsh pants as she touched him.

Her hand grasped him, stroking his length. Her other hand reached lower to cup him, cradling the sensitive sac beneath his shaft. Gold groaned at her curious, exploring touch. He dropped his neck, lowering his forehead to rest on her shoulder as his body heaved.

By God, but this was torture!

The woman turned her head to press her lips to his neck as she continued touching him, her hands soft, stroking, cradling, pushing him further and further toward the brink of madness.

She loved this, the power he gave her now.

But every man had a limit to patience, and Gold had reached his. He couldn't take it anymore, having to remain still with her hands playing between his legs was too much. If he didn't move, if he didn't stop her then he knew he would finish before finding heaven between her thighs.

He reached between them, grasping her wrists and pushing her back to lay down on the bed before him. Belle complied, her loving submission a beautiful thing. Gold moved over her, groaning as he brushed the wet heat of her core.

The woman bit her lip, suddenly resistant; she was not afraid of him, never that. She had seen Gold in his anger, she knew that beneath his polished veneer he was a man fully capable of violence if he wanted it. Not only was he capable, but he _relished_ it.

No, she was not afraid that he would force this, she knew he would not hurt her, but all the same she felt shaky, insecure.

"It's all right." Gold nuzzled her throat again, sensing her hesitation. "Tell me, what do you want?"

Belle took several deep breaths to calm herself. It had been years since she'd last been with a man. Feeling Gold press himself to her had stirred her worries.

As she remained silent, floundering with what to say, he reached between them to stroke her again. Belle lifted her hips to the playing touch of his fingers, flushing hot as he stroked and dipped within her.

Belle writhed against his hand, lifting her lips to kiss him. Whatever hesitation she'd felt just then disappeared, swallowed up by the fire he stoked in her core. "Please, please...I need you..."

She felt that she could hardly voice her want, shivering as she was under his touch. Everything was so hot, so slick. It was right here, right now.

No more waiting.

Gold removed his hand from her heat, kissing her, plunging his tongue between her lips as he plunged his body between her thighs.

Belle cried out at the sudden, sharp pain as her body stretched to accommodate him. It had been so long, she had forgotten how it could be with a man, the invasive fullness of another's body piercing her own.

She clasped to him tightly to stop him moving, desperate for a moment to adjust. Gold held still above her, the ecstasy of her tight, wet heat surrounding him pushed aside in his concern for her.

He knew Belle was no virgin, but it galled him to think she felt... _assaulted_ by him in such a way.

"Belle, what's wrong? Do you need to stop?"

He stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. A kiss to her forehead.

The woman breathed beneath him, her body gradually relaxing to the feel of him inside her. The fire simmered within her, ready and willing.

Did she want to stop?

Not on his life.

"No, no. I'm all right. I just...it's been years. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Gold halted her apology with a kiss. "I understand. I'll go slow, I promise you."

Belle nodded, stroking her hand over his back. She blinked, realizing that he still wore his black t-shirt, but not wanting to break the moment to pull it from him now.

Gold began a slow rhythm just as he'd said, a slow, delicious slide in and out of her. His firm length pressing deeper with each stroke. The stinging pain eased as he passed through her, gentle rocks of his hips to match the sipping kisses to her mouth.

He dipped his head to suck at her breasts, furthering her distraction from the initial pain of their joining. Belle's hands stroked his clothed back, then spread into his hair, holding him against her. Her legs wound around his waist, holding him close as pleasure swept through her body.

Gold began to pick up speed, instinct winning out over his promise.

Belle did not protest, in fact she began to rock her hips up to meet him, thrust for thrust. She breathed heavily, surprising them both as she lifted her head and bit his earlobe, tugging it roughly to encourage his thrusts within her.

Gold pulled back to look at her, eyes wide in surprise. His sweet Belle, so gentle and yearning, seemed to enjoy a bit of rough play.

He obliged, hiking her leg higher on his waist, dipping his head to bite at her breasts and thrust more heavily into her body. Belle moaned, encouraging him, tightening her thighs to pull him deeper. "Oh, yes, please...".

Gold reached between them to stroke just over the place where they joined. Belle cried out at the new sensation, shaking under him now. "Yes, Belle, yes, let go. Come for me."

It was his command of her, his permission, that triggered her release. Gold harshly bit her shoulder once he felt Belle tighten painfully around him, her intimate muscles surging, throbbing.

It was too much. Gold had been fighting, holding back the rush of his own climax to see to her pleasure first. But Belle had found her freedom, and so freed him to chase his release within her.

Gold tangled a hand into her hair, forcing her head back as he thrust wildly into her, relishing the wet heat surrounding him, pounding into her body with his own. He cursed harshly as it hit him, a tidal wave of sensation as his body stiffened, seed surging from him into Belle.

The rush washed over him, draining him of all thought and energy. His body sagged with exhaustion, near collapsing atop her. Gold felt loose, boneless as a cat. He closed his eyes, struggling to steady his breath.

Distantly, he felt small hands sweeping the hair off his forehead, moving under the bottom hem of his shirt to stroke the sweaty skin of his back. Gold shifted, reaching to take her hand away before she felt-

Gold lifted his weight onto his elbows once more, shifting off of her, worried that he'd smothered the woman in his moment of weakness. They groaned as he withdrew from the tight grip of her body, and shifted to lay down just beside her. "Are you all right?" He asked.

Breathing deeply, Belle laced her fingers with his, nodding. "Yes. I'm okay. What about you? How do you feel?"

Gold pressed forward, kissing her soundly. "Wonderful, Belle."

He rested his hand over her head, stroking her. "Do you need anything from me? Something to drink, anything like that?"

Belle shook her head, growing as drowsy as him. It had been a long day, making love was pleasure and joy and wonder, but it was also exhausting. She covered her mouth to yawn, and seeing her do that, Gold did the same a moment later.

"No, you've given me so much already tonight. Just...oh, will you hold me? The way you did that night in your room?"

Gold said nothing, he just kissed her. The man pushed at her shoulder, guiding her to roll over in bed next to him so that her back faced his front. They laid together, and as Gold rested his arm on her waist, he smiled fondly as Belle took his hand and kissed it.

As she panted against him, coming down from the high and struggled to regain herself, Gold could only hold her and marvel at all that she was.


	27. Dawn

Sometime in the night, Belle stirred. She stared around the dark of her room; there was no confusion, no blank time where she was made to wait as her memory returned.

No.

Belle knew exactly where she was.

She knew the man who held her. She remembered everything they'd shared.

His hand was resting low on her body. As he had the first night they'd shared his bed, the man had moved in his sleep, his hand wandering her skin as he dreamed; cupping her breast, brushing over her waist and finally it had settled over her womb, just inches above the mound of her sex.

Belle rested her hand over his as she stared into the dark.

She had kissed him and he had come to her. She had invited him to bed and he had proven himself every inch a man. He'd been so careful with her, but he needn't have worried - Belle wouldn't break. She only shattered from pleasure shared with him. She'd been giddy to be accepted, to finally be free to give herself to him and take him in turn. The man had been tender and ardent and-

_Oh, Mr. Gold, how long have you been hiding from me?_

The few men she'd known in the past faded from Belle completely. There was only him.

Her friend. Now her lover.

Belle lifted her head to look over her shoulder at the man, but he was tucked in too close behind her to see his face and it was too dark in the room besides.

His breath was deep and even; the man was heavily asleep. Good. Belle shifted carefully, rolling over to face him. She lifted a hand and stroked over his head, pushing the hair away from his face.

Such a night they'd had.

Despite everything, she wondered at what the morning would bring. She pushed away worries of an awkward, uncomfortable tomorrow. She refused to let that happen, they had come too far to let insecurities ruin this.

This beautiful thing they'd built together - nothing could be allowed to touch it.

No secrets, no small-town censure or eleventh hour fears would take this from them.

Deep inside, the steel in Belle's spine began to stir. Her courage would not fail her. In the morning, she would be as warm and bright as the sun itself. Her light would chase away the dark moods that could sometimes descend over her friend. She would be as open and honest as she had ever been in her life.

Vulnerability was a dangerous thing, but if she ventured nothing more with him, then what could she ever hope to gain?

Belle felt that she was a new woman now, and so happy to be here with him.

This was all she needed to face the day.

_We'll face it together._

Through his sleep, Gold could feel the soft kiss she brushed over his cheek.

There was a sticky discomfort between her legs that Belle could no longer ignore.

Carefully shifting from the bed, Belle crossed the room naked but for the black lace stockings that topped her thighs. She smiled to herself, feeling so scandalous.

She slipped into the adjoining bathroom to attend herself, taking a few wet wipes to clean between her legs, then a few more to remove her makeup. When she next woke to face Mr. Gold she wanted to look fresh, not like that crazed raccoon he'd found in his kitchen.

After quick work of brushing her teeth, Belle went through the duffel bag she'd packed and withdrew the blue pajama shirt she'd stolen from him, weeks ago.

It was no secret between them that she'd taken to wearing it to bed. Sometimes she wore it over a t-shirt and shorts, sometimes she would wear it over just a pair of panties or even over nothing at all.

When they woke, Belle wanted him to see her wearing his shirt while wrapped in his arms. There would be no more unspoken questions between them.

She wanted him to see that she was his. She wanted him to tell her that he was hers, only hers.

Yawning quietly, Belle slid back into bed. Cuddling in to Mr. Gold again, she smiled as his arm came around her once more.

When she woke, Belle's world would be forever changed.

She could hardly wait.

______________________________

As had been his habit for decades, Gold woke just before dawn. Some internal alarm of his, he supposed. It annoyed him to no end on the weekends where he would rather sleep late.

Today he didn't much mind waking early, not when he woke up curled over Belle.

The man stroked her side, raising a brow to realize that, where she'd been naked as they'd fallen asleep, Belle was now wearing a shirt. Odd.

He shrugged, thinking nothing of it. His thoughts turned instead to all that they'd shared only hours before - champagne over the city, a surprise kiss, and all that had followed in this very bed.

His Belle - yes, _his_ Belle! - was a remarkable woman. He'd always thought so. So bright and kind, and his now. He tightened his hold on her for a moment, and kissed the nape of her neck.

Gold wanted her again, but he could wait until they'd spoken first before approaching her. There was so much that had to be said; a daunting prospect for a man stitched together on the strength of his secrets, and he suspected that Belle had a few of her own.

Facing each other in the morning might be difficult, an awkward ordeal for them both. He would fight through that for her, to open himself to this woman he'd loved for months. He owed it to them both to be honest for once.

Well.

He would be honest in how he felt for her. The rest would wait until the time was right.

One step at a time.

Gold shifted, taking a deep breath. Belle would wake soon, and as happy as he was to share her bed, the man had his own set of insecurities to attend to.

He trusted Belle not to show disgust at the injury to his leg, but he knew her well enough to know that after laying eyes on him she would have questions. Questions that would lead to the chapters of his life that he may never be ready to share.

Gold glanced at his naked leg. The scars and malformed shape of his injury was plain to see even now in the low light of the dawn breaking over the city.

Looking down to the floor, Gold found the remainder of his clothing. He had no want to replace his suit trousers, but he did shift out of bed to put on his boxer briefs.

Belle hardly stirred, and he hoped she remained asleep for the time being. He did not want her to wake, find him dressing and assume he meant to leave her.

_Never that._

Quickly now, Gold reached for his cane and limped out of the room, across the suite and into his own bedroom to retrieve a pair of lounge pants from his luggage.

The man took a calming breath, relieved now to be covered. He could keep that part of himself from Belle for a little longer. Hell, he would never allow himself to be seen if he could help it, though he knew Belle wasn't one to tolerate such secrecy for long.

There would be time for that, but the time wasn't now.

Gold limped into the kitchenette area and made a call to room service, scheduling an order for breakfast to be delivered to the door in the next two hours.

He could eat now, but he shelved the urges of his stomach to satisfy the longing of his heart. He stepped back into Belle's room, watching the woman in the bed for a few moments from the doorway. She still slept on her side, right where he'd left her.

In the growing light, he could see the curve of her naked hip and backside, the length of her thigh that was still adorned in the black of her lace stocking.

"Are you going to keep staring or are you going to come back to bed?"

Gold jumped, startled. Belle was a truly gifted actress, this was the second time she'd fooled him into thinking she was asleep.

Hope rose over his embarrassment, for all he'd just been caught staring, Belle was impatient to have him return to the bed, return to her.

He leaned his cane against the footboard and moved to reclaim his position, curling his body over hers, again resting his hand on her waist, but this time he pushed his knee forward to rest between her naked thighs.

"You're a cheeky thing, Miss French." He chastised her, planting a soft kiss at her nape.

The woman only chuckled at that, stretching back against him. They were not yet ready to face the new day, but any fear of the dawn had been chased far away from them both.

________________________________

Gold opened his eyes perhaps an hour later. He had not fallen back to sleep after returning to bed, he'd only laid with the woman, resting and content. He knew that Belle had not slept either, they had laid together to enjoy the quiet.

He hadn't been able to stop himself, however. His hand had found its way under her shirt, his fingertips teasing the tips of her breasts, his light touch torturous to the woman. And she had been helpless against the rising tide of arousal, just the way he wanted her. Belle had found herself shamelessly rocking her hips back and forth, pulsing her sex against the thigh he'd pressed between her legs.

He suddenly pinched her nipple and bit at her throat, relishing the cry of surprise from the woman.

Belle shifted away, rolling over to face him. Gold shifted back as well, giving her space. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. They looked at each other for a moment, and Gold broke the silence with a soft "hello".

"Hello." Belle returned, her voice a touch panting, and he was relieved to see her break into a smile.

She scooted closer and joined her hand to his, lacing their fingers. She brushed a kiss to the back of his hand, then pressed it against her cheek. Her heart swelled with love, unlike anything she'd ever felt before.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked.

Belle wasn't sure what she could say to this man, her man.

There was so much between them, where could they start?

 _One step at a time,_ she thought, and reminded herself of the fierce promise to be vulnerable, honest. They would never find happiness together otherwise.

"Yes. Very well. And you? I know you left the bed sometime last night." He remarked, tugging at the open collar of the shirt she now wore.

"Yes, I...I just wanted a shirt."

"I think you mean _my_ shirt." Gold teased.

"And I think I told you weeks ago you weren't getting it back." Belle shot back, grinning.

"So you did." Gold relented. He shifted further onto his back and brought Belle with him so that her cheek rested against his shoulder. He stroked her hair, a messy tumble of curls. "What would you like to do today?"

"I don't know." Belle stretched against him, content as a cat. She was moments away from purring. "None of this has gone the way I'd expected it to."

That much was true for them both.

Suddenly, a rumble of laughter bubbled up in Gold's chest.

Belle lifted her head to look at him. "What's funny?"

"It's nothing, I just...if I knew _this_ would happen, I'd have invited you to New York with me right after we met."

Belle smiled and kissed his jaw. "You should have. I liked you enough that I'd have said yes."

"I should have done just about everything differently in hindsight, friend."

The woman stretched against him, stroking her foot up and down his calf. "Mmm. You and your nicknames for me. Friend, woman, dearie. I think I just prefer Belle."

Feeling playful, Gold curled his arm more tightly around her, tickling her naked hip. "First name basis? That's very familiar, Miss French."

Rather than go on with their play, Belle huffed and rolled over, away from him.

Gold raised a brow at her flash of mood. "Belle, please, you know I was only joking."

"Last night you asked if I needed anything from you."

"Yes, do you need something now? Tell me, please." He urged, nuzzling in behind her, planting soft kisses just behind her ear.

"What's your name?"

Such a simple question, but it had no place between them here, after over a year of close friendship and a night spent in passion.

Gold drew back at her request. "What?"

"Your _name._ "

"You don't know it?"

The woman rolled over to face him once more, "You never told and I never asked. You've only ever been Mr. Gold to me. But, considering our new circumstances..."

Belle reached between them to cup him through his lounge pants, relishing the hitch in his voice when he spoke again.

"Ah, yes, things have changed, I suppose."

Gold gathered the woman close and whispered his name to her.

Belle drew back from him, a smile unfolding over her face. "Thank you. I know you don't let many people in."

He stroked her back, "There are reasons for that. But you, you were different from the day we met. You weren't afraid, you didn't want a deal, you didn't want to argue. You just wanted to know me."

Belle closed her eyes as he stroked her face, smiling lightly. "I had heard things about you before in passing but I never gave any of it much thought. Then, there you were in the library, challenging me over that book."

Gold smiled fondly. "Well, I wanted to make sure you knew what you were on about."

"Mmm, and I'd heard that you weren't a man to disappoint."

"You never have. You're perfect."

Belle snorted a laugh at that. "I'm not perfect."

"Don't look at me, I'm about as far from perfection as I can get."

The woman regarded him steadily for several moments. Then, "I never wanted perfect. Perfect is boring. And you've always been fascinating to me."

He quirked his lips. "Then I'm happy to hold your interest for as long as I can."

The man shifted forward, pressing his lips to hers. As Belle whispered his name against his mouth for the first time, he felt free and powerful, a man unbroken and unburdened with the truth of his heavy past.

________________________________

Gold and Belle eventually left the haven of her bed and ventured out to the suite. In the bright light of the morning, they found themselves giddy, drunk on each other. Belle giggled as Gold pinched her waist, tickling her.

She'd conceded to some sense of propriety by replacing her panties and buttoning the shirt, covering herself. That was fine with Gold for now - he'd enjoy unwrapping her later, starting with the thigh-high stockings she still wore.

Belle squealed and ran from his playful hands, hurrying out to the balcony to look out over the city.

He followed, taking a moment to look at her as she leaned back against the railing, waiting for him to join her.

Such a picture she made.

Such a woman, and all his.

Belle held her hand out to him, pulling him in close for a kiss. Gold held her, then braced his hands on the balcony railing at her back, boxing her in. His cane clattered to the floor, but he paid it no mind. How could he think of anything with Belle in his arms?

Breaking for air, Belle nuzzled his throat and then slipped under his arm to take up the cane. Gold took it from her, righting his balance. "The city suits you." He told her.

Belle shrugged and looked out over the view. She couldn't decide when New York looked more beautiful, in the day or night. Then again, why should she be forced to choose?

"I think the change of scenery has done us both plenty of good."

"I can't argue that." He agreed, moving to stand beside her and look out over the city. "We could stay."

"In the room?"

Gold shook his head. "In the city. I'd close up the shop, resign from the city council, let Dove manage the properties in my stead."

Belle raised her brow, "Leave Storybrooke?"

He shrugged. "Don't listen to me, I'm just talking out of my head. If your friends haven't been teasing you about us already, they surely will when we go back."

If only he knew. She probably had a hundred curious texts waiting on her cell after she'd updated her online status the day before, bragging a bit about her trip to New York. "I can handle them, they won't be a problem."

"No worries, I like your friends."

"They like you, too."

"Stranger things have happened." Gold remarked.

Belle put her hand on his bicep and leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. Glancing down, he noted that she'd run with his suggestion the day before and treated herself to a unique manicure. Her nails were gleaming gold in the light of the day.

Cheeky thing, he knew the color she'd chosen was no accident.

They turned at the sound of knocking on the door, and Gold started forward, hunger guiding him to the room service that stood waiting at the threshold.

Having been a guest several times before, Gold took charge and handled the attendant. Belle, being Belle, insisted that they eat at the low coffee table in the main room of the suite rather than at the kitchenette nook.

He wasn't one to argue.

Soon they had set out a small feast of fruit, coffee and creamers, scones, yogurt, eggs and sausage. Gold was particularly fond of the hotel's market berries and sweet cream. He ordered a bowl every time he stayed in the city.

Together, they served themselves on tiny white plates. The man watched her eat and felt a surge of animal pride. His mate, beautifully disheveled and voracious after what they'd shared the night before.

Yes, underneath everything, Mr. Gold truly was a beast.

For her part, Belle felt as happy as she ever had. Here she was in New York, far away from home, and they had come together the night before as a man and woman. And here they were now, sharing breakfast and the truth for the first time.

Belle closed her eyes, a faint "mmm" escaping her throat as the rich sweetness of the yogurt coated her tongue. It was delicious, better than anything she'd tasted. Of course, a gourmet breakfast in a famous hotel would be worlds above any old Yoplait she could pick up at the grocery store.

Looking up, she caught the man watching her. "What?"

Gold struggled to find the words to express the sense of relief coursing through him. How to explain it, the pure happiness he felt, just sharing breakfast with her in this way. "I feel..."

"Hmm?"

"I feel like I can finally look at you."

Simple words, but so true.

Belle reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. "I know exactly how you feel."

Gold lifted her hand, kissed it, then let go so that they could both go on eating.

Belle couldn't stop herself from commenting on their breakfast. "This is all so delicious."

"I know, the chefs here are the best." He agreed. "Here, try mine."

Belle looked over to see that he held out a spoonful of berries and cream, his meaning plain. The man wanted to feed her.

Sensing that there was more to his actions than just offering her food, Belle nodded. She moved closer to him and opened her lips, accepting the sweet morsel.

Gold watched, eyes steady on her face as she chewed the bite and licked her lips.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

He blinked, coming away from some distant thought. "What?"

"Feeding me."

Color began to rise in the man's cheeks. "Yes. I don't know why."

Belle scooted even closer, moving to sit facing him with her back against the low coffee table. Here he was confessing a private pleasure to her, she owed it to him to give her attention and wait for his trust.

"Is that something you thought about doing before?"

"Yes." Gold gave her a quick smile, taking her hand and stroking her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. He stared down at her hand in his, shy in confiding to her about this. "Among other things."

Belle smiled back, "And all this time I thought you only cared for me as a friend."

"I've always cared for you as my friend. I don't know when it began to change into something more."

Belle lifted her free hand, stroking his hair back away from his eyes. "You don't have to be embarassed. All that holding back, it's over now. Tell me."

The man leaned forward, kissing her softly. He could taste the raspberry that clung to her lips. He pressed his forehead to hers, relishing this moment. "Last night, and being free to have you here with me like this. I think this is what I've wanted more than anything."

Belle pushed lightly at his chest, "Mr. Gold, you're so tame!"

Gold caught her hands, raising his brows suggestively. He loved her like this, playful and bright. "And you? Honesty is a two-way street, Miss French."

Belle eyed him, raising a brow in challenge. In one swift movement, she was straddling his lap, and gave a hard roll of her hips to tease him for good measure. Gold held her firmly, his hands on her hips to steady her. He didn't want her to move, his pulse quickened to feel her weight against him, right there where he wanted her. He leaned forward, grazing her throat with his teeth. Belle laughed as he breathed harshly against her neck, sending gooseflesh to rise over her body.

He was losing interest in their talk - he wanted to take her again, right there on the floor.

"Oh, I've come up with a few ideas for us." Belle said suggestively, giving another pulse of her hips against his. She could feel him stir against her, and delighted at the power she felt.

Belle leaned in to kiss him, just a soft brush of her lips to his, and then she kissed his forehead. Oh, how she'd wanted this, the freedom to be open with him, to touch him, to be touched by him.

He had given her some trust the night before, trusting her not to reject him when he'd approached her door, trusting her to support him when she'd taken his cane.

Now, he asked for her trust in kind.

It was time to tell him, to finally voice what she wanted.

Belle moved her mouth toward his ear, whispering a long-held fantasy to the man who had occupied so many of her darker thoughts over the past year and change.

Gold pulled back to look at her, brows raised in surprise and cheeks heating in interest. "In the _library?"_

Giddiness rising, Belle nodded. "And your shop, if you wouldn't mind staying late one night."

The man tightened his grip on her hips. "I think I can arrange that."


	28. Simmer

Overdue accounts that demanded collection.

The proposal for a mobile extension of the library.

Properties that needed repair.

The semi-annual inventory report to submit to the city.

Three texts awaiting on her cell: two from Ariel, one from Shane.

A rare voicemail from Jefferson.

Their work was calling to them from Storybrooke. Tasks to handle, they both had their role in town to play. Problems to manage, big and small.

None of it mattered.

Everything had fallen away but them.

Gold kissed Belle, again and again, sipping sweetly from her lips as his hands held firmly to her hips, softly guiding her pulsing movements against him. His mind was drowning in the rising pleasure coursing through his veins. His body was heating quickly, drowning him in happiness. They had spent the night together, they had been open and honest in their feelings but once wasn't enough.

Now that he had taken her, had felt her move beneath him, had held her though the night, once could never be enough.

Gold wanted Belle again, he was ready to take her right there on the floor like an animal, but for her he reigned in his darker urges. It was too soon, he couldn't take her roughly. In the night, in their first moments of joining, Gold had felt the sudden tension in her body, the soft cry she'd tried to stifle had echoed through him. When he would have stopped, Belle had urged him to go on, and he had, happily, but he'd been so careful. He never wanted her hurt, never, there should only ever be pleasure between them.

If she would allow it again now, Gold was determined to be gentle with her.

Belle moved atop him, shifting her weight over his lap, smiling against his mouth and granting him kiss after kiss. He shuddered at the feel of her fingers in his hair, because God, how long he had wanted this and how long he had thought her to be out of reach for one reason or another. His heart had been had been defeated for decades; he had resigned himself to living out the rest of his days alone when Belle French had fluttered into his life, bringing her sassy quips and sweet teas along with her. The woman had brought him warmth, she had brought him hope and blasted away so many of his doubts.

Belle tightened her thighs against Gold's hips, twisting herself against him. Her heart hammered in her chest as he moaned against her mouth and she gleefully swallowed the sound. Belle smiled against him and brought her hands into his hair, lightly scratching over his scalp. She felt his hand move away from her hips to reach under the hem of her pajama shirt, seeking bare skin, when a wicked idea bloomed in her mind.

_Let's have some fun, Mr. Gold._

She knew the man couldn't run, but Belle wouldn't make him chase her far.

Abruptly, Belle broke their kiss and pulled away from Gold, scrambling off his lap and dodging his grasping hands. She stood, backing away a few steps to marvel at the sight that stared back at her in aroused confusion from the floor. Gold remained sitting back against the edge of the low sofa, hair mussed, his lips swollen with a wild, predatory look in his eyes.

Belle winked and turned her back on him, strolling back into her bedroom as if she'd not a care in the world.

Baffled, Gold reached for his cane and moved to his feet. The little minx was teasing him, he knew, but she was baiting a hungry man. Gold would teach her to toy with him. God, it had been so long since he'd played the game with a lover. The tease and chase, measuring each other up, the give and take of two equals ready to build each other up the heights of pleasure and then tear each other apart in climax.

Gold wanted to tear Belle apart again, oh yes, and he wanted to feel her rip into him with those golden nails. He wanted to be absolutely destroyed here, away from everything that had kept them apart in Storybrooke.

The man went after her, finding Belle on the bed, laying on her stomach, facing away from him. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she kicked her feet back and forth, and then looked away, making a show of inspecting her nails. Sly thing, playing at innocence.

He could see that she'd removed her panties, leaving herself bare for him.

_Not so innocent now, are you?_

His mouth watered.

Gold stood in the doorway, watching her. He was sure he looked deranged, feral for his interrupted lust, but Belle wasnt afraid. She wasn't afraid of anything. She was toying with him and he loved her for that.

"Not one for the floor, Miss French?"

Belle shrugged, "The bed seems more fitting for a man like you, Mr. Gold."

"How's that?"

"It's more...traditional."

She said this to him as he neared the bed, standing just at the edge.

"Tame, you mean." He said, recalling her teasing from earlier.

"If the shoe fits, Mr. Go-ah!" Belle shrieked, laughing in surprise as Gold grabbed her ankle and yanked hard, dragging her to the edge of the bed. In a swift move, the man had braced her legs apart and pinned her down when she tried moving to face him.

Belle's laughter ceased to be replaced with cautious deep breaths. She turned her head against the mattress and watched as Gold positioned himself behind her. The man braced his hands on the mattress at either side of her waist, leaning down over her.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck, kissed her there. "Is this what you want?"

Speechless, Belle rolled her hips, urging him.

Gold placed his hands on her hips, angling her, aligning them. Despite his playful rough housing in dragging her across the bed, Gold was as gentle now as he'd been the night before, wanting her but so careful to treat her with tenderness. He could not lose control and hurt her; it would be unforgiveable.

He pressed forward slowly, hissing through his teeth as her softest flesh surrounded him. Belle fisted the sheets, her body taught as the man entered her. She hadn't thought he would take her this way so soon, but Belle thrilled at this position. It was the ultimate submission, it brought her to an animal place of fire and instinct. Here there were no worries, no cares, nothing existed outside of this room and the man's motions over her, within her.

One of his hands came over hers, lacing their fingers, an anchor, while the other sought her out, teasing her, tormenting her. Gold loved it, the way she twisted against him, the hitched gasps that escaped her. Likewise Belle was thrilling to his touch, shocked that he was learning her desires with such devotion. His hands played her breasts and body, his lips and teeth claimed her nape and shoulders as he quickened his strokes within her, pushing Belle over the edge and seizing the moment for himself.

Gold grunted harshly as Belle tightened around him, her flesh throbbing over the length of his.

Belle chuckled tiredly as Gold fell forward upon her, blanketing her body with his own. She didn't mind in the least, she welcomed his weight atop her. Gold nibbled at the nape of her neck and clumsily shifted off of her, his limbs boneless and slow. He laid on his back just beside her, the both of them panting in silence.

Gold blinked up at the ceiling as he caught his breath and she turned to stare at him, her eyes alight with curiosity. Belle reached to him, pushing the hair away from his face and the faint sheen of sweat along his forehead. The man caught her hand and kissed it, then pressed her palm over his chest, letting her feel the thrilled _thrum_ of his heart. It matched her own.

"Not too tame for you, Miss French?"

Belle stared at him, a strange sense of unreality coming over her mind as she took in his familiar features. He was as he had always been, save for his hair, disheveled now. The lines of his face, the set of his brow. The only thing new to adorn his face was the small scar on his upper lip, the reminder of his clash with her father. Belle pushed the thought aside and searched his eyes. They were as they had always been when he looked at her: a warm whiskey brown with just a hint of gold. How fitting.

He was the same, but different. He had shown her a new side of himself, one beyond the friendship Belle had cherished all this time. He'd shown her caring, tenderness, and a shocking flash of domineering lust. She had known him as her friend, but now she was learning him as a man.

"Who are you?"

Gold raised a brow at the question. "I believe I just showed you."

She nodded, stroking her hand over the fabric of the undershirt that he still wore from the night before. She glanced down his body to see that he had not rid himself of his lounge pants, he had covered himself once again after they had finished. Interesting. Belle couldn't question him, however, as she was still wearing his blue pajama shirt and the lace stockings she had slept in through the night.

Belle stroked her hand up and down his chest and then over his stomach, giggling as he squirmed away, ticklish. Oh, there was so much to learn about him. Gold moved to sit up against the pillows at the headboard and Belle sat up to face him, leaning slightly against his tented knees. She thought of what he'd said to her as they'd shared breakfast. "Before, you said you felt like you could really look at me."

"Yes."

She kept her gaze steady on him, and reached to trace the edge of his jaw with her fingertips. "I don't think I ever saw you - all of you, before."

"That...that's true." Gold nodded, taking her hand. "And for the best, I think"

"Don't say that." She squeezed his fingers. "We're here now, together like this. I'm so happy."

"So am I. Thank you, Belle." He breathed, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers.

"For what?"

"For being braver than me."


	29. The First Day

That morning, the lovers talked, their words more open and honest than they'd ever been with each other before.

"Do you remember that storm? The night I invited you over to my apartment."

"Of course I remember. I hardly watched the movie." Gold said as he glanced to the window. The sun had risen over the city, just beautiful but he wasn't interested in much of anything outside of the woman. He wanted to take her again, but in his bed.

He and Belle did so well with a change of scenery.

"I'll go ahead and confess that my heater was broken but I wasn't really cold, I just wanted to cuddle." Belle told him, an embarrassed smile quirking her lips.

Gold lightly tugged a lock of her hair. "I always knew you were clever."

"I hadn't meant to fall asleep on you, but I fell asleep thinking about what it might be like between us if we ever became more than friends. I pictured us having dinner together at my apartment and then at your house. And I pictured...well, this too."

Gold leaned forward to nuzzle her throat. He'd known she cared for him, but the revelation that Belle had wanted him for as long as he'd wanted her - well, he was flattered, naturally, and taken with the possessive urge to keep her beneath him for as long as he could, to keep her sated and full, to keep her marked against any other man's eyes.

It was an instinct that flashed through him, an urge that Gold could not put into words.

He only tightened his hold over her. "Naughty girl."

Belle raised a brow in challenge. "You have no idea."

"After this morning I have some idea, at least." Gold remarked, to which Belle gave a blush and giggle. He decided to bring up one incident that had always stood out to him from their past, one that had at once filled him with worry and lust. "I'm no better. That day I had you try on the necklace...it was for the best that you ran off out of the shop, a few more seconds and I might have done something you didn't want. I hadn't wanted to scare you."

"No, I wasn't scared, not in the way you're thinking. I left because I felt it too, what was already starting between us." Belle gestured between them, to their connection, intangible yet striking. "I felt overwhelmed. You stir something real inside me. It's different from what I've felt before."

Her confession humbled him.

"It is." Gold took her hand and kissed it, stroking her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. To think, just days ago a kiss to the hand was the deepest intimacy between them. They couldn't go back now. "I've felt it too, for months. After that day, rather than pull away, I wanted to know what I could have with you. Our first time in Sunshire...the whole day I pretended that you were mine."

"So did I." Belle moved closer to let him put an arm around her as she settled against him, his hand coming to rest lightly just below her collarbones. "That was our first official date, we were just too scared to say that was what we wanted."

Her words were true enough - those shared chapters of denial were thankfully behind them now.

Time to press on.

Gold drummed his fingertips over her warm skin as he reflected back, months ago to their outing. "Mmm. You made me feel brave that day. I would have kissed you had your friend not driven up and broken the mood."

Belle turned and buried her head in his chest, recalling Marcus's perfectly awful timing that night. "I know! I wanted to kill him for that."

"So did I." Gold chuckled in return, stroking his hand over her back. "But it wasn't his fault. How could he have known what he'd interrupted? We kept our secret too well."

Belle lifted her head to face him, her expression serious now. "I don't want to keep secrets anymore."

The man hesitated for a pointed moment, but then nodded his agreement. "No secrets between us, Belle."

Even as he said the words, Gold felt every inch the bastard.

Belle kissed him and then settled back down over his chest, her playful lust from earlier satisfied, she felt secure there with him. She felt so protected, so loved. She was safe with him, and she was loved, truly, but Belle was not fully trusted. Not yet.

Gold held her close and stared at the ceiling, keenly aware of the secrets vaulted in his past, but those were not chapters of his life he wanted to reveal so soon. If ever.

He was too damn happy here, in this room, this city, this moment. He would fight to hold onto this bright warmth he'd longed for in the year and change of knowing Belle French.

If he were to come out with the truth now, she would have so many questions for him. She would ask for details, she would want to see his pictures...God, he couldn't.

Gold tightened his grip on Belle as she rested against him. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. He was too weak to relive those horrors again. If only it was possible, he would run far from that sorrow. Impossible. Memories were faster than any man, they would always catch up and find him.

He resolved to be open in his feelings for Belle. She would know his regard for her, how he cared, how he wanted nothing but the best for her, how he would provide everything she could dream of, but he would tell her nothing until he was ready.

It was his story, he would tell it as he saw fit.

_________________________________

They rested in contented silence for perhaps twenty minutes before both bodies became restless once more. Gold's wandering fingertips had just started to tease Belle, but he'd taken the hint after she'd slapped at his hand and shrieked out laughing when he'd touched on a particularly ticklish spot over her waist. He would keep it in mind for later.

"You have wicked hands, do you know that?"

Gold shook his head. "No, no, not just my hands. All of me is wicked."

"I might have argued that a few days ago, but after this morning I'm not so sure." Belle teased him, nudging his foot with her own.

The man shrugged at that, and looked out the window again. "Belle, let's get dressed. I want to go out."

She lifted her head, "Where?"

"Central Park."

"Really?"

"Of course." Gold nodded. "Even if this hadn't happened between us, I'd still have taken you there. Pretty as it is, I know you'd like to do more than just look at it from the balcony."

Belle reared up to kiss him, an excited smile spreading over her face when she pulled back. "Oh, you read my mind. I was hoping we could see the park before we had to go back to Storybrooke."

The man scowled. "Please, don't mention _that place._ This is our time away from all that."

She raised her brows at his reaction, and sat up to face him. Her hand found his. "You don't like Storybrooke much, do you?"

"I hate it there." He said plainly.

"Then why stay? I've always wondered that about you." She shrugged. "I mean, you aren't tied down, you could afford to move away and start over in a new city, anywhere you want."

His reasons for remaining in Storybrooke despite his hating the place were his own, and nothing he felt like discussing with her now. As he'd just said, their time in New York was for them alone. The realities of his past and the petty censure they would face on returning to town had no place here.

"Mmm. Tied down?" Gold reached for her again, hoping for a more pleasurable pursuit. The park would still be there when they were finished. "Now there's an idea."

Belle pushed against his chest to stop him. "I'm serious. You say you hate it there, and I uh, can't help but notice that you don't have many friends."

"I'm well-hated, you mean."

"Why do you stay?" Belle narrowed her eyes, searching his. "What's keeping you in Storybrooke?"

"You sound like Dr. Hopper."

"You've been to see him?"

Gold bit the inside of his cheek, cursing her sharp mind. He loved it, truly, but right now she was trying to probe into his secrets. He couldn't let her do that. Gold leaned over to kiss her soundly, his motive to distract her almost forgotten as he felt her yield to him.

Almost.

"Belle, again." He urged, reaching between her legs. Her warmth greeted him, and Gold was ready to say to hell with the city, he would keep her locked in the suite with him for the rest of the year.

Belle canted her hips against his hand. For a moment, she was lost to pleasure. She wanted this, wanted him again, but she knew what he was doing, trying to distract her away from their talk. She reached between them, guiding his hand away. Belle broke their kiss, then raised a brow in challenge. "You're trying to distract me."

"Oh I certainly hope so."

The man was shameless. The woman was not amused.

"What are you hiding?"

"How about I take you shopping?" Gold asked, blatantly ignoring her questions now.

Belle pinched his arm. "And now you're just trying to spoil me."

Gold pinched her back. "You won't let me spoil you in Storybrooke, so let me spoil you here."

Giving up the pursuit of why Gold would remain in a town he claimed to hate, Belle didn't think much of it. So her man had secrets. So did she. Why pressure him to reveal anything now? They had plenty of time for all that.

"You already have. God, yesterday was amazing but _you_ were my favorite part." Belle batted her lashes, flirting. The fine dinner, the Broadway performance, the champagne...none of it compared to finally having him to herself, to see him look at her like that, touch her in such a way that said she was truly his.

Her words were too flattering. "Why, thank you."

"It's all right, you can keep your secrets." Belle dismissed, "And don't try spoiling me. You don't need to. This whole trip has been more that I ever expected."

"A man does aim to please." He said easily, nudging her in the ribs.

"I'm serious." Belle insisted, waving her hand to encompass the lavish suite, his gifts, the city. "I didn't want any of this from you-"

"I've watched you struggle and gain nothing since the day we met. You should only ever have the best, Belle."

This, Gold truly believed.

He'd stood by, helpless as she struggled financially, forced to handle the fallout of selfish parents who'd abandoned her to her troubles, stifling her potential, chaining her in obligations. And when he'd seen her crack under pressure, Belle had put on a brave face and refused his help out of some sense of pride...or perhaps she was just stubborn.

No more of that. All that was changed, now. She didn't have to fight any longer, he would give her anything she asked of him and more.

Before he could stop himself, Gold was promising her the world. An entire new wardrobe, she could choose it all herself this time. He would let her redecorate the whole house in any style she chose. A pet, should she want one. More funding for the library.

Belle stopped his rambling with a kiss. His offer of money was crossing a line that she was not comfortable with, though she knew he hadn't meant it that way.

"I don't want those things, I never did. I was happy with just you." Belle told him, stroking her hand over the burn scars on his arm, her hand stroking higher, venturing under the sleeve of his undershirt, her fingertips mapping the tender, twisted flesh.

Gold caught her hand before it could travel any further. "I wasn't."

"No?"

"No. I could have lived with just having you as a friend, but I would have always wanted more. I should have just found the courage to ask you to dinner instead of wasting so much time skirting the issue." Here Gold touched her face. "Now, having this, I can't go back. I won't."

"Good, because neither will I. But I need you to understand that it was never about your money or position, it was always about you."

"You're insane."

Belle rolled her eyes and shoved him as she moved to stand from the bed. "Sure, sure, I'm crazy like a fox. Let's get going to the park." Belle waggled her brows, unbuttoning her shirt before him. "Join me in the shower."

"What?" Gold seemed startled by her invitation, but recovered himself just as quickly. "No, I...no. No, lets meet in about an hour and just go from there."

"Oh, um, sure. All right."

The man kissed her and hurriedly left her alone in the room. It seemed so empty now with him gone.

Belle stood there, feeling strange about his reaction to the offer of sharing her shower. Perhaps it was an intimacy he didn't care for, but he'd seemed so suddenly uncomfortable at the suggestion that he'd practically run out the door. The woman shrugged to herself, and made a mental note not to suggest it again any time soon.

If they were to move forward with this then they had to learn each other in a new way. This was beyond friendship, beyond learning of each other's favored teas and games and films. This was entirely different, and just so new.

This was honesty about their past, the truth of what their bodies craved, the ultimate vulnerability.

It was daunting, but again Belle refused to let her strength slip away. She moved into the bathroom, peeling the stockings down her legs and unbuttoning his shirt, then gathered her panties off the floor, leaving everything with her casual clothes worn the day before. Quickly, Belle showered, thrilling at the sight of the marks Gold had left on her throat the night before, sure they would be joined by others from their encounter just that morning.

He was a gentle lover, but he had known what he was doing in marking her throat.

So her man was gentle but carried a possessive streak. No surprise there.

Belle finished rinsing herself, then emerged from the steam to style her hair and put on her makeup. Each day spent in his home, Belle had taken care to look nice for that precious hour when he would come to the kitchen and see her for the first time over breakfast. For weeks, Belle had been the first face he saw each day, and after they had made up in the days following the disaster that had brought her into his home, Belle had been determined to appear beautiful for him.

Today was different.

This was their first outing together, the debut of their relationship to the world. This wasn't a shared breakfast at Granny's or a day spent wandering around Sunshire. This was them, together, in New York City, free to kiss and touch and damn anyone, _anyone_ who disapproved.

Belle took extra care to shine for him; she wanted him proud to be seen with her, she wanted him to be as proud as she felt to know that Gold had chosen her. She wanted them to be seen together as _right_.

As Belle fine-tuned herself, Gold was in his room of the suite, doing much the same thing in selecting his wardrobe. In Storybrooke he'd only hoped to impress her a bit for her birthday; he hadn't expected things between them to escalate so far and so blessedly fast.

But what man would complain?

Belle was his, now. His friend, his lover.

_His._

It was a terrifying, wonderful truth.

Stepping out of the shower stall, Gold toweled his hair and took a deep breath as he looked himself over in the mirror. He knew his own body, he was content with what was reflected back to him, but he looked everything over, trying to see through Belle's eyes.

The man had done this before, more times than he cared to admit.

His scars, his injury, the wear and tear of a life spanning near double the years that Belle could claim...but there was nothing for it. His limp, his scars and his years could not be reversed, they were the tapestry of his life and he wouldn't trade them for anything. Through some miracle or temporary insanity, Belle had invited him into her bed - twice.

Whatever his flaws, Belle wanted him.

Him!

Gold could not shake the smile or the alien sense of lightness in his chest, just thinking of the woman in the other room. He had given her a wonderful birthday but it was she who had given him such a gift. Beyond the simple pleasure of their sex, she made him happy.

So happy.

He felt...understood. Warm. Complete.

_Oh, Belle._

Gold had known love before, and so recognized the signs: distraction, some silliness when he spoke with her and the tenderness he felt toward Belle was seeping into his business - he'd let Regina and a few others amend their payment plans with him when he'd dug deep and found that he just hadn't had it in him to be his usual bastard self when it came to his dealings.

Gossip had never bothered him, but in the past few weeks he had hoped that some positive rumors might reach Belle's ears. He wanted her to know she was changing him for the better, that he welcomed the change she'd brought to his life.

Gold finished dressing and went to meet her.


	30. New York, New York

The late morning found Mr. Gold and Belle French leaving The Four Seasons showered, changed, and closer than they'd ever been. She in her dark wash jeans from the day before paired with a loose blouse and sandals, and he in a pair of chinos and a soft linen shirt. Belle teased that he had probably never even owned a piece of denim, to which Gold revealed that he was part owner of a small clothing store in Franklin and so technically owned several hundred pairs of jeans.

Bested, Belle had laughed and looped her arm through his as they strode through the door and out onto the street of beautiful, loud, chaotic New York City.

It was a short walk over to Central Park, but there was no rushing their day. Gold loved to make Belle happy, and now he was free to set her off into a laughing fit with his jokes and tickling fingertips at her waist.

And Belle was giddy, walking on air to be the center of his attention like this. Despite her protests, Gold had spoiled her rotten already and Belle revelled in the thrill of it. Freedom and love were potent drugs, and they wove their way toward Central Park like a pair of deranged addicts.

Distantly, Belle knew the reactions they'd draw with this behavior if they'd been at home.

Snow might call them twitterpated. Ruby would demand details. Marcus would as well.

Gold lead her across the street, his gait as quick as he could manage to beat the approaching traffic. New York was so loud and crowded compared to Storybrooke, so fast and pushy and just so different from the gentle life she knew at home.

The woman was glad to have him as her guide here; Gold had been to the city often enough to know his way with confidence. Belle glanced at him as she walked on by his side. _Confidence._ That was the marked change in the man. She recognized now just how much of himself he'd been holding back from her. To Belle he seemed lighter, whatever weight he seemed to carry in Storybrooke had been lifted since their first fleeting kiss.

Was this what he looked like when he was truly happy?

Belle supposed she'd only ever seen him content in the past, but now he was hers and so changed. They walked into the trees, letting dog-walkers and obsessive runners pass them by, until the park opened up to a large fountain.

Belle dug two coins from her purse and handed one to him as they neared the stone rim. "Here, make your wish."

"Why? I already have what I want."

"Humor me," she coaxed, kissing her quarter and flicking into the water. Her wish was simple: she only wanted them to be happy together.

Gold smiled and could deny her nothing. He copied her action, brushing his lips to the quarter she'd given him and tossing it over his shoulder into the fountain. His wish would remain known only to him. Gold hoarded his every secret.

Belle moved to sit on the edge of the fountain, her eyes roaming the area around them. She'd only ever seen Central Park in media, always wanting to see it for herself but it had been a wish shelved in the face of the realities of her life. She had struggled to establish her career at the library while at the same time she'd scrounged all over Storybrooke for extra work, putting the money into her parents' - now her father's - florist shop. Not to mention how her own bills and incidentals had eaten into her funds.

A trip to New York or anywhere else had only ever been a daydream.

Belle looked away from the trees, the distinctive skyline, the others in the park, and looked to her friend. He had just been watching a young family pass by - a young couple with a baby - but he looked back at her and shrugged, "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I was just thinking how I never would have had the opportunity to be here if not for you."

"I might have been hoping for something to happen between us when I invited you to come out here with me." He admitted.

"As I recall it, you didn't invite me so much as command that I come."

Gold might say something cheeky with a play on words, but now wasn't the time. He tapped her calf with his cane. "I had to do something to get you out of that date."

"Oh, yes, that's me. The serial dater of Storybrooke! You know, there's a reason I haven't been seeing anyone and it's not because I've been so wrapped up with work."

"Enlighten me, Miss French."

Belle stood up and eyed him. "I haven't seen anyone else because I only wanted to see you."

A hundred responses jumped to his mind,all of them fighting to be voiced, but what could the man say? He adored her, everything about her and it was still a shock to know that she had felt for him just as fiercly. A flattering, wonderful shock. Just knowing he could draw her was doing wonders for his ego - he felt younger, stronger, worlds more of a man.

Gold cupped her face in both hands and kissed her. Belle rose on her toes to meet his lips, so happy and so desperate to keep him here in the moment with her. Gold pressed his forehead to hers, then kissed her there. When he spoke, his request surprised her. "Can you sit back on the rim, please? It won't take long, I'll just do a quick sketch."

Belle stepped back and Gold pulled a small pad and a pencil from his pocket. She shook her head. "Take all the time you need, I'm not going anywhere."

As Belle fixed herself on the edge of the fountain, Gold asked that she face away from him, her posture suggesting that she was staring off to the buildings that made up the skyline over the park. he had been wanting to draw her again, the waves of her hair in particular. The man was true to his word, the sketch not taking more than ten minutes and once he'd finished he pocketed the pad and joined her to sit on the edge.

There were things that had to be said between them, but for a while, Belle and Gold found themselves to be content with holding hands and letting New York pass them by in the park.

________________________________

The early part of their day was spent exploring Central Park, the bridges, the pathways, the gorgeous views of the towering buildings that stood across the water.

Gold took Belle to a late lunch at Tavern on the Green where they flirted and teased shamelessly over their meals, giggling like idiots and then in silent accord, they headed back in the direction of the hotel.

Arms entwined as they walked, both were caught in the rosy haze of love. They had made love twice and spoken the most loving words of care and admiration. What need did they have of "I love you" when it was written into their every touch, their every look? Belle didn't care if he never said it, because she could feel it every time he smiled at her and Gold felt much the same. Words were nothing compared to Belle's trust.

The man was eager to get Belle into bed again, and he sensed she wanted him by her sly eyes and the way she'd tightened her hold over his bicep as they walked. Yes, he was eager but he also had questions for her once they were alone. They could see The Four Seasons a block ahead, but it was still too far away, there were still too many people surrounding them.

They stood waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street, when a window display caught Belle's eye, and she couldn't help staring. The garment was sensual dark magic, a dark leather dress cut low enough to reveal the satin lace cupping the breasts of the mannequin. It was the uniform of the commanding woman, the captivating adventuress, the alluring, untamed Irene Adler, Mata Hari and Jessica Rabbit.

In a word, it was pure _sex._

"Do you want it?"

Belle blinked, blushing to realize she'd been caught staring at the dress.

"Oh, no I was just looking."

Gold frowned lightly, as he was too used to this, Belle refusing his generosity out of some sense of pride or self-preservation.

"If you see something you like you just have to say the word." Gold promised. "Anything in the city will be yours."

"Anything?"

"Anything but the buildings." Gold was quick to clarify.

There were limits to his accounts, after all.

Belle laughed and shoved at his chest, "Oh, well if I can't have Freedom Tower, the Flatiron building and the Metropolitan Opera House then this just isn't going to work for me."

The light changed and they hustled across the intersection with several other people, though Belle and Gold hardly paid them any mind. For the day, this was their city and they were the only ones in it.

Gold huffed at her in false frustration. "Women! You can't just be happy with the Chrystler Building?"

Belle crossed her arms and took a hauty stance, looking down her nose at him. "I'm afraid not. It's the whole city or it's nothing."

"Fine, fine." He relented. "You'll have it all at the end of the week."

"Not fast enough."

"Demanding and impatient! You're no better than Grace." He accused

Dropping her spoiled rich girl act, Belle smiled and tugged at his collar. "You'll pay for that."

Gold gestured back at the dress on display, "I can pay for something now if it'll save me being in trouble with you later."

"I don't need any of this from you."

And Belle's words were true. It was flattering that he wanted to buy her more things when he'd already given her so much during their time in the city. He'd dismissed her attempt to pay for their lunch in the park and she still had a closet full of designer clothing, all of it unworn outside of her bedroom back home. Yes, it was very flattering but in all honesty, Belle would be just as happy being with him in Storybrooke as she was in New York. It was all so wonderful and impressive, but she hadn't needed a glamorous hotel, a Broadway show or a satin dress. She'd only needed him. They needed each other.

Gold shrugged, still uncertain at her refusals. "No, but wouldn't it be nice to have something to mark the occasion?"

Belle nudged him as they walked on, The Four Seasons well in view by now. "I think you've given me plenty already, Mr. Gold."

Her cheeks heated in memory of the pleasures he'd brought her. He was so different from any other man she'd known. So attentive and sweet and so maddeningly gentle with her. Belle held tighter to his arm, she wanted him again, her baser mind already buzzing with ideas. She wanted his lips, the touch of his hands, the weight of his body atop her.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself." Gold nudged her back, teasing.

"Oh, was I that obvious?"

Gold paused before a window display at Tiffany Co. only a few storefronts from the entrance to the hotel. Gemstones of every color and size dazzled just over his shoulder. "You were that _brave._ Taking that first step to move us beyond what we've known...that was very brave, Belle."

The man's compliments had a way to echo through her - with him she felt that she was her best self: beautiful, brave and wonderful. They had proven to be wonderful together. United, they were in perfect balance.

Belle shook her head, "I don't know if what I did was brave. All I did was give you a kiss."

"Something I should have done months ago."

"We both had our reasons to hold back." Belle leaned in and kissed him, a soft brush of her lips against his. "When we get back to the room, I'll let you do the brave thing this time."

______________________________

On returning to their suite, Belle had asked that Mr. Gold go to his room, change into something more comfortable, and wait for her. She had voiced this request in between kisses to his lips and teasing bites at his throat and earlobes - what could Gold do but obey?

Sensing the game, Gold watched Belle slip into her room and he went off into his, wondering all the while what the little minx had up her sleeve.

The man was quick in removing his shoes and clothing, remaining in his pale gray undershirt and changing into a new pair of lounge pants. He sat in the center of the bed, his legs crossed like a student as he waited for her.

The flesh between his legs stirred in anticipation.

Christ, he wanted her. Even these few minutes of separation were too much. After a taste, he was a man addicted. Belle was so alluring, her body so soft and yielding beneath his own. Such courage and passion she'd shown him. He loved the trust she put in him, the way she looked at him - like he was whole again.

He wanted to give her everything, she deserved no less from him.

Gold never wanted to leave this suite. Weeks ago Marcus had accused him of kidnapping Belle; in truth the man would do it for real if it would only keep them here, suspended in this dream.

_This is a dream, it has to be._

Gold cleared his throat and looked out the window.

It was early yet, the sun only just setting, but he didn't intend to leave his bed again once Belle joined him.

He looked up at the knock at his door. "Come in."

Soft footsteps padded across the carpet from the doorway and stopped at the end of his bed. The first thing Gold noticed was that Belle was wearing his pajama shirt again, unbuttoned over a plain black chemise. When he'd first leant that shirt to her, she had made some comment about it bringing out the color in her eyes. It did. Her gaze was so bright, a luminous blue.

_So lovely._

Belle swept her hair behind her ear, purposefully showing that she was wearing the topaz earrings he'd gifted to her that past Christmas. She bit her lip before smiling, shifting her weight from one bare foot to another.

Gold recognized the signs. A flush was blooming over her chest, throat and face. Belle was nervous, but aroused. For him.

_Don't let this dream end._

Gold quirked his lips, beckoning her to him in an echo of her words from the night before. "Come to bed, Miss French."

________________________________

Belle took the hand that Gold offered her, placing her hand in his and letting him pull her forward onto the bed. She moved across the mattress and into his hold, tucking her knees just outside his hips, straddling herself over his lap.

For several long sweet moments, they held each other. A simple, soft embrace.

More than sex, _this_ was what Gold had craved from her all these months. Her. Just her, open and soft and his to hold whenever he so chose. The mingling scents of perfume and warm skin, her hand in his hair with her nails dragging lightly over his scalp.

It was such a comfort to hold Belle. Her weight was slight against him, the woman was a tiny thing made even tinier when she went without her heels. Gold felt her free hand stroking up and down his back, so he returned the favor and stroked her as well; the hypnotic motions, up and down, up and down, lulled them both.

Why in the hell had he held himself back from her? Fear of rejection, more than anything. Fear of risking the brightest spot in his life, the fear of being alone again.

Gold wasn't afraid of anything now. He felt whole, he felt new and full of courage thanks to her. The man pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, a claim she understood.

_You're mine._

Belle pulled back, smiling and silent as Gold looked over her face. As he'd guided her to join him in the bed she thought that he would kiss her, begin to make love to her again, but Gold had done nothing yet. The man simply held her.

Belle didn't mind. She liked this, just being with him here. There was something comforting in this silence, something she didn't want to break.

One of his hands rose to cup her face while she felt the other rest over the curve of her backside. Belle remained still in his lap as his eyes trained on her face, absorbing her features, the curve of her cheekbones, the arches of her brow and the shape of her lips.

They could finally see each other.

"You really are beautiful." Gold said, his words quiet and curious. "Belle, when I told you that night in the shop, why couldn't you believe it?"

Belle knew exactly what he was referring to; that intimate evening in the back room of his shop when he'd sketched her face and Belle had been overcome with the sight of it.

It twisted her stomach, thinking back to how she'd brushed off his claim of finding her beautiful with some joke about being pregnant. His reaction to her comment that night made perfect sense now.

She'd been under stress at the time and hadn't been able to stop herself from crying over his sketch - the joke of pregnancy had been flippant at the time but Belle felt shame now to realize how it must have hurt him, especially when she'd teased that the child wasn't his and that no one in town would have believed it had she claimed it was.

A careless joke that must have stung him, and all he'd been trying to do that night was comfort her. A good friend, was Mr. Gold.

Belle took his hands into hers and she looked down at them rather than meet his eyes.

What other careless things had she said that had hurt him?

"I just...I don't often think of myself that way. I believed it when you told me, I did, and that's what upset me so much."

"Why?"

"I've always known you cared for me as a friend, and flirting with you was always fun." They shared a quick, fond smile. "I just never thought you could see me that way."

Gold furrowed his brow. "Why not? I have the reputation for being heartless, not blind."

"You know I never believed any of that. You are not heartless, you've just kept it hidden from most people." Belle shook her head, still looking down at his hands, tracing her fingertips over a scar on his palm. "I just...I wanted you, but I didn't think you'd want someone who wasn't on your level. Not for anything serious."

"My level? I don't understand."

Belle smiled ruefully, listing out his accomplishments, feeling smaller and smaller with each one. Finding herself here with such a man suddenly seemed absurd. They were such a mismatch, what were they even doing together?

"You're the most distinguished man I've ever met, you're on the city council, you've been all over the world, you're-"

"Stop. Please, just stop. I need you to know that my holdings, my position in town, all of it has only ever been a distraction and none of it has ever made me happy." He cupped her face, his eyes boring into hers. _"You_ have, in ways you'll never know. Please, Belle. Believe that."

"Have I really made you that happy?"

"Yes. Belle, I don't want you to believe it just because I say so. I want you to know how beautiful you are."

"The things you say, you always make me feel wonderful." Belle kissed him, her lips lingering on his. She brought her arms around him, hugging him in close. "I've always thought you were handsome, you know."

Gold shrugged at that. He was comfortable with how he looked; his face and body had carried him this far in life, they told the story of who he had been and who he was as a man. "I don't think I'll win any beauty contests, but Jefferson has made sure I cut an impressive image in my suits."

"I love your suits and your ties. I even-" Belle stopped herself, blushing.

"What?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Belle..."

"It's just a fleeting thought I had. I got the idea from one of those stupid books that the reading circle turned me on to." That spark was coming back to her eyes, the look that told him Belle had something sly in mind.

"Tell me..." Gold urged her, sliding a hand down and tickling that spot on her waist.

Belle shrieked and tried to squirm out of his lap and away from him, but Gold held her in place. They tussled a bit, laughing all the time.

God, how long had it been since he had just played with a woman like this?

Belle loved this, how silly and fun and how much of a boy Gold had shown himself to be in these stolen moments away from home.

Giggling, Belle let him pin her down on her back. The man laid half atop her, threatening to tickle her into insanity if she didn't share her secret. "All right! All right, I just, um, I had this thought of using your tie as a blindfold. I know it's stupid-"

"No, it's not stupid. Surprising, yes." Gold waggled his eyebrows at her, teasing on the surface when really, he was intensely interested in this glimpse of fantasy.

"Oh, really? And what have you thought about me?"

Gold paused, wondering where to start. Men and women were different in this way. Where Belle had built up some elaborate scenarios taking place in her library and his shop, including a bit of play with his ties, apparently, his own sexual fantasies were mundane by comparison. When he'd imagined her in his bed, what would happen between them was either rough or gentle, the focus being either on his pleasure or her own.

His fantasies were simple, as were most men's, but Gold wouldn't refuse Belle if she wanted to try something outside the norm. He'd played his fair share of games over the years and so of course he would play with her whenever she wanted it. He had a few games of his own, there was plenty to look forward to...

"I've wanted you like this for some time." He said, his hand idly rising to cup a breast over the black satin of her slip.

"What, in your bed?"

"Yes, but more than that. I wanted you like this." Gold gestured between them, throwing back to their conversation during breakfast. Fantasies aside, he was purely happy to have this new level of intimacy with her. No more watching his words or worry of losing his friend. Belle nodded. She understood him all too well. Her hand came up to touch his hair, her eyes held his in a steady clear gaze.

"Well, here I am."

"And here you are. Every inch of you." Gold looked at her, marveling, when an idea occurred to him and he stood from the bed. "Will you come see what I see?"

Belle stood and Gold guided her to mirrored door of the suite closet. He positioned the woman before him so that she would have a full view of herself as he stood behind her.

"There, look." Gold said. "How can you look at yourself and see anything less than a beautiful woman?"

Belle did as he asked, and looked at herself. She only saw what she'd seen every day of her life - her own familiar face and body. Her name translated to _beauty_ and she was well aware that she was attractive enough, despite her wish for a magical increase to her short stature. She always put effort into her appearance, especially lately as she'd been spending so much more time with him over the past several weeks.

Still.

She didn't see anything overly special in the glass. Maybe it took someone looking from the outside.

"Is that really what you see?" She asked him.

From behind, Belle could feel him trace his hand up to rest just on the nape of her neck. "Yes. I thought you were pretty when we first met, and even prettier that first morning we shared breakfast. Pretty is just how you _look._ You have very striking eyes, a soft face, lovely hair. You're very pretty, and I'm sure you know it, but beautiful is everything that you _are._ Your humor, your intelligence, your kindness. As we grew to know each other better, I began to see how beautiful you were." Gold dipped his neck, resting his forehead on her shoulder so that she would not find his eyes in the mirror as he confessed this last. "In a way it was painful to truly see _you,_ because I could never see _us."_

At that, Belle turned around to face him, the mirror forgotten. "Why would you feel like that?"

Something twisted inside of Gold at her simple question.

He wanted to drop to his knees and tell her everything, _everything,_ to finally talk to someone about what had happened. He wanted to lift the burden of his secret, to share with her, but he stopped himself.

This moment was about Belle. He couldn't let his past rise up and swallow everything.

Still, her question deserved an answer. Everything in him was drawn to the woman, he wanted to trust her with the truth and take the comfort he knew only she could give him. _Not yet,_ caution warned him, _Not everything. A piece._

"Years ago, something happened." Gold glanced pointedly to his cane. Belle thankfully did not press him for the whole truth now. "Since then I've been a difficult man to love. I haven't been happy for years. And then there was you, Belle."

He reached for her then, drawing her in for a kiss. His arms twined around her and Gold felt that he was sinking into the woman, drowning in warmth and love and a new hope he never wanted to be without again.

Belle rested her head on his shoulder, pleased to be held like this. "I feel...it's been the same for me. I know you don't think of yourself this way, but you've been the bright spot of my days for a long time."

Gold's hands lifted between them, shrugging off the pajama shirt she'd worn over her chemise, letting it fall to the floor behind her. "Oh?"

Gooseflesh rose over her exposed arms. He watched as her breasts pebbled under the black satin. He wanted to taste her there.

"Yes." Belle nodded. She reached for the bottom hem of his undershirt, intent to strip him but Gold caught her hands in his. The woman furrowed her brow at that but said nothing.

"And why is that?" He asked. It wasn't often that he had a gorgeous woman tell him how wonderful he was, so he sought her flattery now.

"You always have a story to tell me, either about some piece you have in the shop or about a place you've been or about someone in town. You're so clever. You make me laugh. I think you're handsome and despite what you might think, I'm not the only one who thinks so."

"Mmm, do tell." Gold urged her as he nuzzled her throat, dripping kisses along her collarbones.

"Ruby thinks you're charismatic. And Grace has been jealous of us since the day we met - I might have some competition in a few years."

Belle gasped as he suddenly tightened his hold on her, pressing forward until there wasn't an inch between them. Her idle mention of seeing their connection spanning years into the future broke his control. Gold kissed her, joy surging through him.

"Do you mean that?" He whispered against her lips, not daring to open his eyes.

He felt her nails scrape over his scalp and it was all he could do not to sink to his knees right then and there. "Yes." Belle responded. She went on, "I hate that we've let so many things get between us."

Gold pressed his forehead to hers. "No more of that, Belle. This time is for us."

"Mmm, tonight's our night." She agreed. "Sounds perfect."

The man tightened his hold on her. "It's not perfect, not yet. Please, Belle."

Belle knew was he was asking, and there was only one answer.

"Yes."

_________________________________

That word of assent was all Gold needed to hear. Belle giggled as he pulled her a step forward and turned her away from him to face the mirror once more.

Her heart jumped in her chest at his command. "Keep your eyes on the mirror."

She struggled to stay still as she watched his hands come forward around her waist, his skin a stark contrast to the black slip she wore. He drew her back against him, letting her feel the nudge of his arousal. Belle tried to turn but his hands were firm, holding her in place.

"No. Watch."

His voice was thick in her ear, his eyes gleaming wicked in the glass. Oh, but he was enjoying this, commanding her, controlling her. Belle remained still as her skin grew tight and slick. She wanted him, she was ready and so eager for him to take her, but for him she stood still.

Gold had a game of his own to play, Belle wouldn't spoil it for him.

She struggled to control her breathing, keeping it even, as she watched his hands move over her body. It was alarming to submit to him in this way, to be forced to stay still while he touched her, deliberately trying to arouse her while she was unable to react.

Belle gasped out as his hands slid up her body to cup her breasts, the flesh pebbling against his palms. He lifted the mounds, rounding the tops above the low neckline of her slip. Belle panted at the pure eroticism of what she was seeing. She could not stop herself, and brought her hands up to rest over his, cradling her flesh.

"You're beautiful, Belle. You are, you are." He murmured against the nape of her neck. He planted a kiss there, and moved his hands again. He released her breasts and moved his hands down, down her body.

Belle bit her lip to stifle a moan as his hand dared to venture between her legs, cupping her there. His other hand remained firm on her hip as her body shuddered at his bold touch.

She squirmed in his hold, hot and wanting, closing her eyes and tried again to turn to him, but Gold held fast. "No, Belle. Open your eyes and watch me." He commanded.

She opened her eyes, almost afraid of what she would see in the glass. His hand slipped under the hem of her slip; she couldn't see clearly what he was doing, but she could feel everything. His touch was soft, his fingertips stroking, stroking as Belle's breath quickened from this torture.

She cried out as his fingers parted her, seeking into her body. Gold forced her to remain still, but she was fighting his hold, moving her hips in rhythm to his hand. He kissed her throat, dragged his teeth over her exposed shoulder.

This woman, this woman was just so...

"Please, please, I can't-"

Gold released his hold over her hip, removed his hand from her and reached to her shoulders, pulling the straps and letting the satin glide down over her body. He turned her to face him, and any semblance of control he'd had fell away. Belle stood before him, naked to his eyes for the first time.

Her creamy skin, marred only by the marks he'd left the night before. His claim over this woman. So lovely. Tight, petite curves. Her bright eyes held his, vulnerable but still so full of courage to be exposed before him like this. He was so unworthy of her.

For a moment he had to look away, full of shame.

"What's wrong? Am I not-?"

"You're perfect, Belle, perfect." Gold rushed to reassure her. He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her when she'd moved to retrieve her slip. "I just needed a moment to wonder how I got so lucky."

Belle eyed him, and he worried she would put a stop to this, but a moment later she stepped forward and kissed him. His hands came around her, resting on the small of her naked back.

She had had enough of games and mirrors and whatever it was that Gold was trying to hide from her. They had another day to themselves in the suite, away from Storybrooke and all it's mundane judgments.

She kissed him deeply, caressing his tongue with her own before she pulled back from him. Belle walked the three steps back to the bed and reclined against the pillows he'd piled at the headboard.

She eyed her mate steadily, and gave him a slow smile. "Let's go to bed, Mr. Gold."

_______________________________

After, Belle stretched out on her side, facing away from Gold as he laid on his back. She was breathing hard, struggling to come down from the shuddering high of the climax they'd shared. As before, Gold had been so gentle with her. Gentle yet urgent, he'd driven her to a pleasure she'd never known with the men of her past.

Belle hoped it was the same for him. She was a selfish woman, jealous of the wife he refused to speak of, the bond they must have shared. She wanted to drive out the memories all the women of his past and overtake his mind, consuming his every thought.

She knew he loved her. It was in his every touch and smile. For the first time in her life, Belle was loved and in love and since arriving at the suite things between them had been perfect. Or, as close to perfect as mere mortals could hope for.

She smiled when she felt his hand come to rest on her naked hip. "Belle?"

"I'm awake."

"How do you feel?"

Belle thought on that question and rolled over to face him. Gold smiled at her, softly cupping her face when she leaned in to kiss him.

"Beautiful."

_______________________________

Sunday dawned over New York, bright and clear. Belle woke to a hand stroking up and down her naked back and smiled into her pillow. Her lover was a tender man when they were alone, such a far cry from the aloof dealer she'd met over a year before and worlds away from the conniving face he presented to the town.

There were many sides to Gold, and Belle was one of a very fortunate few who had seen him this way.

She lifted her head to find him standing at the edge of the bed, still wearing his undershirt and lounge pants from the night before. He wasn't one to sleep, or do much of anything, in the full nude. Belle wondered if he showered in his clothes as well.

"Mmm, what time is it?"

"Time for breakfast if you're hungry."

"Same breakfast as yesterday?"

"More or less. Ham instead of sausage today."

"Sounds delicious." Belle mumbled into her pillow.

"Then get a move on." Gold gave a light slap to her rear, and Belle bolted out of bed, stark naked and laughing. The man raised a brow at her, his eyes taking in every pale curve. "Or we could eat later."

Belle shook her head and threw a pillow at him. "You should have tried that when I was still in bed, but I'm awake now and I'm hungry."

"So am I." Gold growled, catching her hand as she tried to move past him to pick up her slip and shirt from the floor. Forget the room service, he would feast on his woman first.

Belle twisted out of his grip. "No way, Jose."

Gold laughed at that. "Try again. I'm Scottish, not Spanish. You might want to say 'no way James, Joseph, John, Jock or Jerry.'"

She grabbed her slip and quickly pulled it on, straightening it over her body. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"You plan on refusing me that often?"

Belle put a hand to her temple. "I think I feel a headache coming on."

Gold frowned at that and watched as Belle stuck her tongue out at him before she flounced out of his room, dramatic and playful far too early in the morning.

God, he loved her.

________________________________

Gold followed Belle out into the main room, finding her at the table as she helped herself to toast and eggs. As it had pleased him the previous morning, it pleased him again to see her so hungry. It was proof of his worth as a man.

He sat down across from her and served himself a plate, smiling when Belle poured a cup of coffee and set it at his side. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. You've spoiled me rotten." She told him over the rim of her own mug.

Under the table, he felt her bare foot slide against his leg. Unfortunately, her foot touched over his injury and Gold flinched away from her out of reflex.

Belle's face was immediately concerned. "I'm sorry, are you all right?"

"No, no. I'm fine. You didn't hurt me." Gold reassured her, going back to his breakfast as if the awkward moment hadn't just upset their morning.

"Does it hurt very often?"

_Ah. We've come to it now. She'll want to know everything. God, how to even begin..._

Gold was very careful in choosing his answer.

"No. Not often. Sometimes I can't feel anything, but then there will be such pain..." Gold shook his head, shrugging again to dismiss it.

"Will you tell me-" Belle stopped herself when the chime of her cell phone sounded off from where she'd left it on the sofa.

Gold nodded toward the sound. "Someone's calling early on a Sunday. You may want to answer that."

Belle nodded, annoyed at the interruption. She wanted to ask him about his injury, this thing that had happened that he felt made him difficult to love. No matter what he said, she would disagree. He wasn't difficult to love at all.

Belle softly cleared her throat, then answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, Miss French?"

Belle raised a brow and double-checked the screen. It was Graham, Storybrooke's sheriff, a man she had known since they were placed together as lab partners in middle-school. He called her sometimes to chat, and they would talk whenever they ran into each other around town, but during their talks she was always Belle. In calling her Miss French, something serious must have happened.

"Yes, it's me."

"I am sorry to disturb you, but are you with Mr. Gold?"

That question caught her off-guard. "I-just, yes. He's here. Graham, what happened?"

"I apologize, ma'am, but I can only discuss that with him."

"Then why did you call me?"

"I've tried his mobile number several times but it keeps rolling over to voicemail. Given your living situation, I figured if anyone knew where he was, it would be you."

Belle huffed, very annoyed now that Storybrooke had intruded on their time here. They couldn't have one weekend to themselves?

"Keep that up and you just might make detective. He's here, just one second." She hit 'mute' and sought out the man, finding that Gold had moved out onto the balcony, once again enjoying the view over the city. Such a place it was, just wonderful.

Belle walked her fingers up his back and he turned around to greet her. "Belle."

"Sheriff Graham is on the phone, he said he couldn't reach you."

Gold raised a brow, "Oh, I left my mobile to charge in the other room."

Belle handed him her cell and left him to the call, trying to ignore the uneasy fluttering in her stomach. If Graham was calling as a friend, then all was right with the world, but he wasn't. He was calling as the sheriff of Storybrooke, his need to speak with Mr. Gold so urgent that he had called her in an effort to reach the man.

The woman returned to her room to give him privacy, but left her door open in case he called for her. As she went about putting on some clothes, she could hear Mr. Gold's end of the conversation and felt her chest tighten with dread.

"Hello, Sheriff. Yes, yes...oh, I left it in the other room. Yes. Miss French and I are in New York, I had some business to attend here...yes, I... _what?!"_

Belle hurriedly zipped her jeans and moved to stand in the doorway, watching as Gold had started furiously pacing the main suite and demanding answers from their sheriff.

She listened, her stomach sinking, twisting with each biting word she heard from his side of the conversation. Gone was his gentle tone, his voice had shifted into that hissing fury she'd only heard once before - that terrible night when she'd come home to find him ready to tear her father apart.

This couldn't be happening now, not now, not when all that was supposed to be over and everything between them was finally so open and bright.

The shop. The safe. _Oh God._

Gold ended his conversation with Graham and turned to her, his expression cold.

"Get your things. We're leaving."


	31. Broken

"Get your things. We're leaving."

Fool that she was, Belle asked the question when deep down, she already knew the wretched answer. "What happened?"

Gold's mind was racing; he needed to change his clothes, he needed to arrange transport back to Storybrooke, but most of all, he needed to get back and reassure himself that the contents of the safe were secure. Everything else in his possession - the jewels, his portfolio of sensitive documents and the piles upon piles of priceless antiques - all of that could burn for what it meant to him.

But his safe, everything inside it...he couldn't go on with just his memories to sustain him.

"Someone has broken into my shop." Gold answered as he moved about the suite, his movements erratic. "We need to go back."

Dread rose in Belle's chest, her stomach twisting into a painful knot. The truth was there in the room with them, she only needed to hear him confirm it. "Was it the safe behind the counter?"

Gold stilled, his movements frozen. Then, he turned to face her, and she hated the suspicion in his eyes. "How do you know about that?"

"It was my father." Her voice was so small and so shamed.

"What?"

"That day in front of Granny's. He told me what he wanted to do."

"Belle...you knew he planned to do this?"

"Yes. He wanted me to help him. I refused." It was a feeble defense. She might have refused to help in the robbery, but sure enough her silence was a betrayal in itself.

Gold eyed her, his furious gaze searching hers. "You haven't said anything to me about this. Not a word."

"I know - I just..."

"The safe...do you have any idea-?!"

Belle jumped, startled, as Gold threw her phone against the far wall. When he turned back to address her, his voice was ice cold.

"We're leaving in five minutes."

______________________________

Belle dug her nails into the flesh of her knees, struggling to remain calm as Gold gunned the engine of the Cadillac, tearing down the road back to Storybrooke. He had barely spoken since ordering her to pack up at the hotel, and Belle couldn't blame him.

Just overhearing his end of the call, she had known their time together in the city was over. Her father, it had to have been that bastard, he had taken advantage of Gold's absence from the shop. They would know more once they were back in town - which would be any minute now, with the way he was driving.

Belle felt her stomach sink as she glanced over at the man.

Gold didn't meet her eyes, he'd hardly acknowledged her since they left the airport. On the short flight back from New York, he'd been on his phone the entire time, airline policy be damned.

After that, she had simply followed along as he reclaimed his car and sped back to town. He didn't blame her for the robbery, Belle knew, but he was angry that she had known of her father's intent and kept it to herself.

Belle hated herself for her silence. Thinking back to that ugly day at the diner, the woman had just been so angry, so hurt by her father's dismissal of her feelings that his scheme to use her as a way into Mr. Gold's safe had slipped from her mind.

 _I should have said something when he found me on the steps,_ Belle thought for the hundredth time that morning. _God, why didn't I warn him?_

The woman shifted in her seat as the sign welcoming them back to Storybrooke flew past the window. Gold sped past his neighborhood, heading toward Main Street. Dread tightened across Belle's body. She was terrified of seeing the damage done to the shop.

The shop, with all of its wonderful, curious things spanning across the world and hundreds of years. The shop, where their secret friendship had found its footing.

Her father had ruined things again, spoiling her happiness, invading on their precious time together. Belle felt her eyes sting with tears. Their time had been stolen and she wanted it back, damn it!

What a bizarre thing it was to miss someone who was sitting less than three feet away.

There was a soft screech of the tires and the car lurched forward as Gold hit the brakes in front of the shop. He spoke not a word as he threw the car into park and got out, moving as quickly as he could across the front walk.

Belle remained in the car, watching at he used his cane to swipe through the yellow crime scene tape that had been affixed across the doorway. Even from her place in the car, she could see the broken window in the door, likely how her father had gotten inside. She watched as Gold shouldered open the door and disappeared into the shop. Belle waited, wondering what she should do.

She wasn't ready to follow him inside - just imagining the shop in ruins was enough to fill her eyes with bitter tears.

Belle thought to call Graham to let him know they had returned to town, but she set her purse aside, remembering with a wince that Gold had thrown her phone in the hotel, shattering the thing against a wall.

She chose to forgive him that outburst.

Gold hadn't thrown the phone at her, he hadn't spouted any abuse her way, but this cold fury was far worse. The man was so angry; it rolled off him in waves, radiating in the air, though he'd barely spared her a glance since leaving the suite. She almost wished he would return to the car and start yelling at her, just some sign that he even noticed she was still there.

Longing speared through her heart. It was only hours ago that they'd been happy, drunk on bliss, the suite being their perfect love nest away from everything that had kept them apart in the outside world. She'd seen the man playful and silly, vulnerable, passionate and tender.

And then this disaster had crashed its way in, her lover had been swallowed by fury as _Mr. Gold_ made his return.

"Belle, you're back."

Belle turned to see Snow approaching her from across the street. Her smile faltered into an expression of concern as she looked past her friend to see the crime scene tape fluttering in the breeze over the door.

"What happened?"

Belle struggled to find her voice. "I think...I think my father did this."

Snow stood beside her near the car, shocked. "No, you can't be serious! Where's Mr. Gold?"

"He's inside. He's so angry, Snow." Belle speared frustrated fingers through her hair. "This is my fault."

"Don't say that."

"I knew my father wanted into his shop, but I never told him. I was so upset that day, I just didn't want to think about anything he'd said to me." Snow watched as something dawned on her friend, and Belle's face crumpled into despair. "I wrote online that I was in New York for the weekend, dad must've figured we'd be there together...God, I'm so stupid!"

Belle brought her fist down on the trunk of the Cadillac, angry and blaming herself all over again.

"No, don't say that. You're not stupid, Belle. You just made a mistake. If he did this then it's no one's fault but your father's." Belle didn't look reassured. Her friend looked ready to break. Snow sighed. She would change so many things for Belle if she had the power to do so. "Look, does Graham know you're back?"

"No, we only just pulled up. My cell is...can you call him? Just let him know we're here."

"Yeah, sure." Snow slipped her cell from her pocket and stepped away to make the call.

Thankful to her for the assist, Belle took a few steps toward the doorway leading into the shop, and she steeled herself to face the object of her dread and desire.

The woman was floundering, unsure what to do now, but she gave herself a hard mental shake. This was her friend, her lover, and yes, he was upset and acting out, but he had also just suffered another violation at the hands of her father.

She had to go to him, reassure him of her support in however he wanted to handle this.

Even if it meant her father would finally be sent to jail for trespassing and robbery and God only knew what else. At this point Belle didn't see any other recourse for him.

Moe French had run out of chances to make things right.

Belle stepped inside, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

She let out the breath she'd been holding.

Her father had done far less damage here than he had at Mr. Gold's home. The shop walls were intact, as were most of the glass cases - no wonder, as they were empty. All the jewelry usually on display had been locked away in separate, hidden safes. Common sense for the closing hours of every store that sold valuable goods.

No, her father hadn't been intent to ruin the shop, he'd only been intent to rob it.

Moe had only spoken to her about the one safe in the wall, the one which he'd believed to hold something so valuable he'd been willing to use her to go after it. Belle looked up. Gold was standing behind the counter, just watching her with his arms braced on the polished surface.

For a moment, Belle was brought back to their innocent days of tea or bottled sodas, banter and checkers.

"The back room wasn't touched."

His voice was so distant. Gold was miles away, Belle could see it in his eyes.

There was something wrong here, something very wrong with her friend.

"He didn't take anything from you?" Belle asked, taking a few steps closer to him. He was acting so strangely, but at least he was talking to her again.

_Don't shut me out - let me help!_

"I wouldn't go that far."

As Gold moved to the side to retrieve his cane, he revealed the safe in the wall behind the main counter.

Or, what was left of it.

It stood open and empty, a gaping wound in the wall.

Belle could feel her throat tighten and tears rise in her eyes. Shame and anger, uncertainty and fear. Gold came around the counter to stand on the open shop floor, his posture rigid, the twitching of his free fingers being the only clue to his inner turmoil.

She wanted to take his free hand into hers and tell him, "Everything will be all right." She wanted to know that he trusted her enough to believe it, but as seemed to be the Storybrooke way, they were interrupted.

They both looked up as Graham parked before the shop, the man himself about to step in to greet them.

"I need you to go back to the house. Wait for me there." Gold told her this without looking at her. His eyes were on the sheriff.

Belle shook her head. "No, I can help you to-"

"Belle!"

Gold finally looked at her, a glare that could cut glass. Where anyone else might have withered under his famous scowl, Belle truly knew him now. She had never been afraid of him and she wouldn't start now.

Still.

At his sharp command, Belle gave up any notion to argue. Gold wouldn't indulge her insistence now; he was furious and anxious and he demanded her obedience in this. Things between them were clear. Gold didn't want her help here, he didn't want her anywhere near this.

The man didn't want her now. He wanted to speak to the sheriff alone, and, she was sure, he wanted time to himself, to decide if being with a woman whose father refused to leave him in peace was worth the trouble.

The night before, Gold had made her feel beautiful.

Her father had stolen that away from her far too easily.

She felt like trash.

Belle nodded her assent and turned away. She would do what he wanted, return to his house. Wait for him to find her there. Do what she could not to break when he told her that everything between them had been a mistake, that he wanted a simple life and he couldn't have that here with her...

Graham didn't say a word to her as they crossed paths outside the shop.

"Belle, what's it look like in there?"

Snow was still lingering outside near the Cadillac, eager for an update. Belle shook her head, struggling to keep her voice steady. "There was a safe...whatever was inside is gone now. I don't know what was taken."

"Are you all right?"

"No. If I had just told him then this never would have happened but I just...I wanted to forget that day, all the things my father said."

Snow glanced past Belle, to the shop. "What did Mr. Gold say?"

"He doesn't want me here. He told me to go back to his house."

"I can go with you, or you can come over to mine if you feel like talking." Snow offered.

She'd sent Belle texts that had gone unanswered after seeing her update about her trip to New York - Snow had known that something had to have changed between Belle and Mr. Gold for them to go away together overnight, but it was more important to support Belle now than it was to pressure her for the details of her birthday weekend.

Belle shook her head. She loved Snow, they were sisters in every way, but Belle wanted to be left alone.

"No, that's all right. I'm just going to go. No one needs me here."

_______________________________

Gold watched as Belle left the shop, his heart tearing, but he stifled the urge to go after her as Graham crossed the threshold. He had to find his things first.

"Mr. Gold."

Gold nodded to the younger man, planted the cane before him. "Sherrif."

"Would you mind coming with me to the station? It'll be easier to discuss the investigation there."

Gold looked past him through the window, and watched as Belle headed in the direction of his neighborhood. He hoped she did as he asked and waited at the house. Later, when his things were returned and he felt some semblance of balance again, he would drag himself across the threshold of his home and beg her forgiveness.

But he couldn't think of Belle now.

His things had to be recovered - _please, please, let them be found_ \- before he could think of a way to repair the damage he'd caused to his love. He knew no gift would mend things, the woman would demand the truth and if he wanted to keep her, Gold would be forced to tell her everything.

That was, if Belle would even allow him to approach her again, if she hadn't only gone to his house to retrieve her things so she could leave him-

_Not now._

"Yes, Sheriff. Please, lead the way."

______________________________

On entering the small police station - barely more than a few cells, a scattering of officer desks and an open waiting area - Emma called to Graham from behind her desk after just hanging up the phone. "Sheriff, I was just about to call you - the Sunshire PD have Mr. French in custody."

"So it was him." Gold said flatly.

"Damn right it was!"

Gold turned as a booming Southern drawl filled the room, and a face he'd almost forgotten came into view. "Howard?"

Mr. Howard, of Sunshire's Howard Jewelers, stepped forward and took Gold's hand, giving it a brisk shake. "Gold, good to see you again but it's a damn shame it had to be like this."

"Why are you-?"

"I had my girl Casey call the police as soon as I saw French was trying to sell my own stones right back to me. Sure rocks will change hands in this business, but it just didn't feel right."

A few feet away, seated on a waiting chair was the blonde woman Gold recognized from Howard's jewelry store. She waved at him, just as lovely today as she'd been on their first meeting, and clearly her relationship to Howard had bloomed beyond the professional if the sparkler on her left hand was any indication.

"The amethysts. Yes. I'd forgotten. Thank you." Gold heard himself thanking the jeweler, he saw himself looking at the man's kindly face, but to him everything felt surreal. He was outside of his own body, watching things play out from a distance.

His things had been taken from him and his world couldn't be right until he had them back.

"Our pleasure, Gold. Happy to help. I'm gonna take Casey for a slice of pie at the diner we saw a couple blocks away if y'all don't need us for anything else?" He said, turning to Emma to see if it was all right that they depart the station.

Emma Swan, one of Graham's more capable deputies, was all business as she stood to answer him. "You may go. We'll call if we have any further follow-up questions relating to your statements or the investigation itself. Thank you both for your vigilance."

"All in a day's work, doll." Howard said with a wink. This gentleman certainly preferred blondes. He straitened his jacket and turned his attention back to Gold once more. "Gold, once things are all settled here on your end, I have another trade in mind. Shoot me an e-mail when you're squared away."

"I will. Thank you."

Another brisk handshake that Gold could not feel.

As soon as Howard had guided his fiancé out the door of the station, Gold blinked himself into sharper focus and turned to Graham. "French. Where is he?"

The sheriff looked up from Emma's monitor. "He's being held for processing in Sunshire, and he'll be brought here later this afternoon."

"He was trying to sell my things?"

Emma approached him with several itemized sheets, everything Sunshire had scanned and sent over upon French's arrest. "Yes he was, Mr. Gold, but it appears he was taken into custody before he could make any successful sale here in town or while in Sunshire. We matched the jewels on his person with your insurance claim of six amethysts, five uncut diamonds-"

"I don't care about the gems. What else did you find with him?" Gold asked, and God how he _hated_ that edge of desperation in his voice, but he had to get his things back - he wasn't...he couldn't be _right_ without knowing they were safe.

Graham took up a stenopad and a pen, intent to take down a list. "What else was there?"

"Several toys and a photo album. These things...I cannot tell you how precious they are to me."

It cost the man deeply to confess this, but there was no hiding from it now.

"Mr. Gold, I'm sorry, the gems were all French had on him when he was arrested-"

"Then search his house! His car! That damn flower shop, he took them from the safe, they have to be somewhere-"

"Mr. Gold, I can assure you that I've already assigned officers to do just that. And when French is brought to us, if your things are not recovered before then, I will question him personally." Graham told him, some effort at reassurance. He did not know Gold well, but he could see the man was wrestling a deep upset at the robbery. "Can you give me a more detailed description of the toys and the album that were taken?"

"The toys...two RC race cars, one blue, one green, and a motorized toy sailboat, Lehan edition, 1993."

"And the album?"

"Leather. Red. 150 pages."

Graham tapped the page with his pen. "May I ask the content of the photos? We may need to identify them if they've been removed."

"All the photographs are of my son."

________________________________

Graham asked few further questions of him, for which Gold was immensely grateful.

He couldn't speak of his past now, of all that had happened and why the only proof of the family he'd once had was in a lone photo album.

Gold sat in one of the wooden chairs in the waiting area of the police station, ignoring the glances of the sheriff and the other officers moving about the station.

He was tired.

His stomach churned, both hungry and upset at his ruined morning. No, not just the morning. The weekend he'd shared with Belle had been truly and thoroughly wrecked.

The man sat forward, rolling his cane between his hands.

He'd snapped at Belle when all she'd wanted was to help him. She always wanted to help. He had sent her away, and before that he had coldly ignored her, and before that he had let his temper get the better of him and thrown her phone against the wall like a damn child.

Gold had never raised a hand against a woman, not even in his darkest days, but Belle would naturally see him throwing her phone as a precursor to real violence. She saw the monster he'd always claimed to be.

Gold stifled the sob of anger that rose in his throat.

It was all so goddamn _unfair._

Why was this happening to them? Why now, when they had only just found the truth in each other?

Gold had wanted to tell Belle of his past - truly, he did. He would have told her everything in time, by his own choice, but that choice had been taken from him.

Moe French had been brought in. Graham had placed him in a cell well out of Gold's sight.

Storybrooke's young sheriff was sharp - he had never seen it himself, but Graham knew that Gold could inflict real damage when he was pushed. Today of all days, there was no way that French would walk away if Gold managed to corner him alone.

Under the despair, fury burned through Gold's veins. The next time he faced French, Belle wouldn't be enough to save his hide. The woman could only do so much.

_How can I expect to earn forgiveness after the way I treated her?_

"Mr. Gold?"

Gold lifted his head, pulled out of his misery. "Yes?"

Emma indicated a side room. "We've recovered several things from Mr. French's car. It was found a few blocks away from the site of his arrest in Sunshire. If you'll follow me, we can go through the evidence so that you can identify anything that might be your property."

It was under harsh fluorescent lighting that the things were laid out, everything set on a cold metal table. Too uncomfortable for words, the room reminded him of a hospital morgue.

Still, he moved forward to inspect what was there.

Moe French had been busy, the table was fully covered. At first, Gold recognized nothing. The clothing, neatly folded with the tags still attached, did not belong to him. Neither did the silver candlesticks that he was sure he recalled from the church...not that he'd ever attended regularly, but he recalled seeing them at the wake of Mr. Garrison Sr.

Likewise the set of hand weights, the tackle box and pair of signed boxing gloves did not belong to him.

Gold moved further down the length of the table, touching nothing.

_Oh, thank God._

Relief flooded through his chest once he spied something familiar. Then another, and another.

Only one of the RC cars was there, the green with white stripes.

The boat.

_The album._

Emma waited near the door, silent with respect.

Gold stood and turned through the pages, eyes absorbing the entire album. He knew every photograph by heart, he had to know they were all in place. With each turn of the page, Gold was forced to endure the tortures of memory, the twisting knife of his past.

Birthday parties and their trips to the beach and Christmas and that visit to the farm in the Highlands and everything that might have been and never would be all because of-

Bae and Milah. His family. His life.

Shattered decades ago. Lost to him.

By the end of it, Gold's hands were shaking. He swiped at his eyes, clearing the tears. Emma was still standing near the door and how the man burned with the humiliation of being seen like this.

Bae was with him now and the weight of his failure was enough to break him.

Distantly, he could hear his boy's laugh, his constant questions, his _screams-_

Gold shut the album, clutching it close to his chest. He didn't speak until he could trust his voice. "The last three pages are missing. Was anything found at French's house or the shop?"

When Emma spoke, her voice was laced with a quiet strength. "We have recovered several pieces of stolen merchandise from his home garage. Officers are still trying to match everything to their rightful owners. If the pages are found, I promise they'll be returned to you."

"Thank you. May I take my things or do you still need them?"

Gold loathed the thought of his memories being bagged and tagged for evidence, but if that evidence could help to put French away, then the man would resign himself to suffer for the greater good.

"No, sir. Everything we've recovered so far has been logged, you're free to take it all with you today."

"I will. Thank you Miss Swan."

With all care, Gold began to place everything into the provided box.

"Mr. Gold? I never knew you had a son. I don't think anyone did."

The man stilled. He didn't look at her. "It's not something I can talk about."

"I understand."

Gold rounded on her, his words biting. "I promise you, you don't."

"You're right, I'm sorry."

He did not say 'Good day Miss Swan' or anything else, nor did he bother to thank the sheriff.

Gold only limped his way out of the station, broken and furious.

______________________________

While Gold had been at the station, Belle had returned to the house as ordered. On entering, she felt unsettled, shaky, insecure. Her father ruined their weekend, but had he ruined everything? Belle closed the front door behind herself and leaned against it, wondering what to do.

A few ideas occurred to her, peace offerings of her own, small ways to mend the rift.

Belle thought to make a meal. If the man came home to food it might lift his mood, something of a trick she had learned in the years after her mother had fled the family. But Gold was nothing like her father - he might appreciate her skill in the kitchen but he was more complicated than any man she knew. It would take more than a late lunch to make up for the silence that had lead his shop to be robbed.

Belle scowled, a perfect mimic to the glare he'd given her in the shop.

She wanted to know what was happening back at the shop and police station - what had Gold been doing for the past several hours? Had her father been arrested? Had Graham recovered anything that had been stolen?

The woman hated being left out like this and wondered bitterly if this was some form of punishment Gold had intended for her - forcing her into ignorance since he couldn't get his hands on her father.

Again, she had to suffer for the actions of that man.

Belle shook her head. She wrung her hands. She paced the lower floor of the house. She went outside for some fresh air and ended up watering the backyard just to keep herself occupied.

Anxiety clawed at her, the constant wondering of what was happening driving her up the walls of his house.

His house, his shop, and her father.

_I should have told him, but it's too late to change that now. I just hope my father's caught...I hadn't thought it'd come to this, but I hope he's caught and put in jail. It might finally be enough to get him to wake up and change._

Belle reentered the house after replacing the garden hose and almost went in search of her cell, forgetting for a second that what was left of it was in pieces on the floor of The Four Seasons.

The thought occurred to her to check her options for a replacement online. With some luck she could pick up a new cell later in the day without any hassles. Belle stepped into the study next door to Gold's bedroom and found his iPad on the desk, right where he'd left it. In picking out the furniture for the front rooms, he had allowed her free use of his tablet so Belle didn't hesitate now in reaching for it.

Blinking, Belle realized that she'd never set foot in his study before. This room had never been forbidden to her, it was only that Belle figured the space was primarily for his work and thus, there was nothing in here meant for her eyes.

She sat in the leather rolling chair behind the desk and leaned back, spinning a few times as her eyes wandered the small space.

His study was a cozy room in deep, masculine colors on the walls, carpet and wainscoting. A match to his bedroom, now that she saw the similarities. There was a large oil painting of a woodland scene on the far side of the office and opposite to that were shelves built into the wall. Some held large volumes of leather-bound law books and others held interesting little curios.

Belle stood up from the desk and came closer to the shelves for a better look.

One shelf held a porcelain China plate with a lovely silver and green design swirling over it. Another shelf held five polished brass hand bells. Why he had those, she had no idea. Belle took one and gave it a ring just for fun and set it back into its place.

Another shelf held a cluster of framed photographs.

She looked them over, and Belle's eyes widened in recognition.

It wasn't a professional photograph, in fact it was very candid. Belle took the picture and moved back to the desk, where light from the window was strongest. She could see her friend, decades younger, his hair shorter and darker, those same whiskey eyes...

It was the others in the picture who had drawn her attention.

There was a woman in the image, and Belle was almost sure it was the same woman she'd seen in the photo album upstairs, though the woman's hair was changed in this picture - it was longer here and she'd had bangs cut in, very 90s. With the way they were standing together, with his hand on her hip, Belle could only be looking at one woman.

_Mrs. Gold._

She could see their wedding rings in the picture very clearly.

His wife, the woman he'd loved enough to marry. The woman he refused to speak of.

Which could only mean...

Belle studied the little boy in the picture, her world fading to nothing but the image in her hands.

Belle wasn't sure how to feel about this.

If this was his son, then where was he now? Why had Gold never mentioned him? Was he a grown man, moved away from Storybrooke? Had there been some rift in the family, forcing father and son to become strangers?

Or...

_No._

Belle felt her stomach twist, a hundred horrible thoughts racing through her, and all of them leading to the only reason she could fathom of why Gold had never mentioned his son, never, not even once in all the time they'd shared in friendship.

She looked closer at the picture, taking in every detail.

The little boy had light skin, thick dark hair, dark eyes. A smile she recognized. He was cradling a white puppy against his chest...and hadn't Gold once mentioned having a dog to her?

A dog, yes. Not a son!

Belle took it in, the faded image of this young family. They all looked so happy, so animated, like they might start laughing together within the frame at any moment.

What had happened to his wife and son? Where were they? Why hadn't he told her anything about them?

"What are you doing with that?"

Belle jumped out of her skin, turning around to find an irate Mr. Gold watching her from the doorway. How had he snuck up on her like that? She hadn't heard the door open, she hadn't heard the tap of his cane. Dread twisted inside of her, tenfold.

His eyes were red, his voice hoarse, hair disheveled.

He had been crying, she realized in confusion and concern.

Why had he been crying? He had to talk to her, there had to be something she could do to help. There had been tension surrounding him all morning - she wanted him to come back to her.

"I asked you a question."

Belle felt her heart hammering in her chest, strong enough to beat its way right out of her ribcage as she scrambled to explain, "I - I was just-"

"It's mine. Where did you find it?"

"I'm sorry, I was just looking."

Gold wasn't interested in explanations. He was too angry, too raw. "Put it down."

Belle scowled at his tone - she loved this man, but she wouldn't be a doormat to his temper any longer. She'd given him a wide berth all morning, but no more. "Don't talk to me like that."

Gold wasn't put off by her returned flash of temper. "Or what? You'll come and ruin my home, break into my shop? Your father has already done that!"

Belle stepped around the desk to stand before him, unafraid, her eyes blazing. "Yes, my father, not me! You know I'm not like him! I'm nothing like him!"

"You're just like him, coming in here and taking my things, they're all I have left of them and you just want to - ugh!"

Whatever tirade Gold would have gone on, whatever paranoid accusations he would have thrown at Belle, they were all cut off as the woman did something completely unexpected.

As Gold had neared her, intent to take the picture from her hands, Belle had lashed out with her foot and kicked his cane right out from under him.

Gold stumbled forward, forcing Belle to back onto the desk, leaving him bracing his hands on either side of her to catch his balance, suddenly standing between her legs. With tensions and tempers high, it was too much. There was a split second of hesitation before Gold crushed his lips against hers, his last coherent thought being, _To hell with this world._

He needed this, damn it. He needed her.

To hell with everything.

The kiss exploded between them, a hot, furious collision of lips, teeth and tongues. Heat pulsed through his body, swallowing his anger and sorrows, burning away any thought outside of dominating Belle on his desk in the way he had shamelessly fantasized for months.

His hands were thrilled to finally touch this woman again. One spanned her waist, while the other pushed her knee, spreading her legs further apart for him, his hand moving up her thigh, seeking her heat, her secret flesh, intent to stroke her to dripping, to ready her for him-

"No. Stop. Mr. Gold, please, _stop."_

Gold froze once he felt Belle halt his hand, gripping his wrist to keep it from going any further between her legs.

They were both breathing hard, panting, the two of them frozen in place. Belle sitting atop his desk, her legs wrapping his waist and he, leaning over her, his offending hand being held at the wrist to keep eager fingers from exploring- no, _violating_ her further.

_What am I doing - what the hell am I doing?!_

The man was the first to move, backing away to give her enough space to get away from him, unable to meet her eyes as she eased out from between him and the desk.

Gold felt a shame unlike any he'd ever known before as he watched Belle pull her skirt back down to cover herself. Shame and disgust with himself, as his flesh was still throbbing in anticipation for her, his hands hungry to touch her again. He leaned heavily on the desk for support, wretched and broken thing that he was.

Gold closed his eyes, trying to level his breathing and calm his arousal. He felt a touch to his shoulder and turned to see that Belle hadn't fled the office, she had stayed. A bit of hope flared in him, until he saw that she was holding his cane.

Right.

He'd dropped it when Belle kicked at him, because he'd been yelling at her. Snarling some blame at her, because he'd found her in his study and he just couldn't handle anyone in his space, touching his things, threatening the only memories he had left of his family.

Not today, not after he'd been forced to relive it all over again.

He knew that Belle would never...she didn't even know the truth...he'd just lashed out because she made an easy target.

And she had stayed to help him.

She was too kind, staying to return the cane to the wretch that had just assaulted her. The cane. His leg. The very reason he didn't deserve this woman, the soft pleasures she brought into his life.

Gold sighed heavily and took the cane from her, leaning on it to right his balance.

Belle was still there, face flushed, lips bruised, but her eyes were so wary. "Mr. Gold, I can't-"

"Just go."

Belle backed away, stung by his dismissal. She turned out of the study and retreated up the stairs to her room, needing to put distance between them. She shut the door behind her, standing in the center of her room while her breathing struggled to return to normal.

Something was deeply, terribly wrong with her friend. Belle had only seen him so unhinged once, that night when she had stumbled in on Gold after he'd attacked her father.

Her father - was he the one who had stolen from the shop? Belle still didn't know of his arrest. She had no idea what had been taken, what meaning the things in the safe had held for Gold.

There was so much confusion surrounding the man and Belle was at a loss.

Hearing a commotion, the woman strode over to the window and saw Gold leave through the front door, limping his way toward the car. She watched as he got in and sped from the house.

Belle sank down to sit on the window bench, her hands curling into fists.

_This isn't over._


	32. Escape

The notorious black Cadillac sped through Storybrooke like a bullet, tearing down the main drag of the town and whipping around corners. It was mere minutes before the stifling confines of civilization fell back, giving way to the thick woods of Maine. Gold did not let up on the speed. He was running, running in the only way he could now.

Skidding to a stop, he threw the car into park and pushed his way into the cabin he kept outside of town. Only then, with the door shut behind him and the woods soft and still did he stop and scream out his frustration.

Gold sank to his knees, letting his cane fall aside as he beat the floor with his fist in a tantrum the likes of which he hadn't thrown in twenty years. He cried out as the raging animal inside flared to life, clawing its way through him. The man clutched his head, trying to block his own memories, but it was impossible - no man could escape his past.

A hard knot twisted his stomach, and Gold hunched harder into himself, almost fetal on the floor.

There was no escaping what had happened, he knew this. In his cold, calculating mind, Gold knew that what had happened to his family could never be undone, that he could never reach back in time to change the past. He knew this. He knew this.

He had never made peace with it, he had only done what he could to survive the years as they passed. So much for the untouchable Mr. Gold. He was a broken fraud, and that was the truth of it. He had survived, he had buried himself in work, drowning in deals to build an empire with no heir. He was clever and successful and respected but the man he had once been was long gone.

That man was never coming back.

He had been reborn since waking to a horrible, empty new world, forever ruined by his failure.

And now, Belle.

Beautiful Belle, his friend. The damn woman he'd loved for a year and made love to for days - he'd attacked her with his words and then attacked her with his body, and she'd had to force him to stop, repulsed by what he was doing _and she'd called him Mr. Gold._

Mr. Gold, the man he'd been to her before they'd shared so much those blessed days away from this place, away from unspoken rules and lies and memories.

He'd been a stranger to her in the study. The man who'd frightened her, very nearly assaulting her atop his desk.

A monster.

Gold forced himself off the floor and across the room. He had long since resupplied his home with the spirits that Moe French had shattered, and his cabin, his rustic home away from home, was just as well-stocked.

There were only three days a year where Gold would drink with the true intention of losing himself in a bottle. Only three days when he would force himself to remember and then drink to forget.

This day would find itself among them. Perhaps he'd bring the date into his annual tradition of drunken misery.

He poured himself a neat glass of something - whiskey? vodka? - it didn't matter. It stung as he pulled a thick swallow of the drink, which was all he wanted. It burned down into his belly, heating his blood and giving the man no comfort.

Gold lashed out with a hand, knocking pictures off the wall.

He was acting like a maniac, raw and erratic and full of rage for everything that had been torn away from him. Everything. All of it, gone.

His santuaries violated. The panic of loss. The possessive fury, the singular drive to _get his things back_ at any cost.

The humiliated misery of explaining himself at the police station, the pity held in the eyes of Emma Swan and Sherrif Graham. That blatant curiosity in the stares of the other officers because he was a figure of interest and _nothing_ stayed a secret in Storybrooke forever.

And Belle.

Sweet Belle, she'd only been waiting at home for him. She didn't know what she'd been doing just by looking at his picture, how seeing yet another precious piece of his past handled by an outsider would push him over the edge into a raged frenzy. She stood up to his rant, defending herself, and had even stayed to return his cane because she wasn't like him, bitter and angry, she was sweet and patient and...and he had pushed her away. _"Just go."_ He had abandoned her at the house. Leaving her alone, used, vulnerable...

_I told you I was a monster. You must believe me now._

**Monster.**

It was a title well deserved. He wasn't a man. A man could protect and provide for his family. A man didn't make demands of his friend for a show of power, a man didn't accuse and attack the one person who would offer comfort to his desperate soul.

And this man was desperate.

It was a desperation that he carried within, just under his calm focus on business and the love he had found for Belle and Regina and Henry and Grace and Jefferson. He was desperate to find what he would never see again, the wife and son who belonged to another life.

Gold looked over his shoulder, to the photo album he'd placed on the coffee table. Bae and Milah were in those pages, happy and healthy and whole.

No.

He would never see them again. It was his fault, all of it, and nothing would ever change that.

Tears slipped down his face as Gold poured himself another drink.

_______________________________

Belle had moved out of her room and tore down the stairs, but slowed with each step as her mind caught up with her feet. She had no idea where the man had gone and what's more, she had no way to follow him. As she reached the first floor of the house, Belle sank down to sit on the steps.

It was difficult to think when she had no idea where to start.

The magic of their time together in New York had been blown to hell the second Graham had delivered news of the robbery.

Graham.

Belle could call the sheriff and find out if Gold's ramblings about her father were true, if he had been behind the break-in at the shop, but again, she didn't have her cell phone and Gold did not keep a landline at the house. She could walk to the police station, but what if Gold returned home? She wanted to be here if he did.

_I have to find him._

The things he'd said and the way he'd behaved...he'd acted so erratic and deranged, accusing her in one breath and kissing her in the next. And the way he'd kissed her, touched her, it wasn't like anything they'd shared before. He had been wild in a way that had shocked her. Terrified and aroused her.

Belle pressed her fingertips against her lips, feeling heat rising in her chest at the memory.

Something had to have shaken him for Gold to come at her in such a way, reckless, on fire, his body desperate for an escape from whatever plagued his mind. What could have been taken from the shop to drive him to that?

 _He has a family - or, he_ had _a family._

He'd mentioned his wife only once, and Belle recalled that had been a slip of the tongue. If Gold had his way Belle was sure he would have kept that secret close. He had never spoken much of his personal life before they knew each other. They hadn't even gotten that far before everything had been ruined. And the child she'd seen in the picture. His son. Not a word had ever crossed his lips. But the way he'd reacted on seeing her holding the photograph, it could only be because the image held his family, a family that had left him behind. Alone.

_I have to find him. He needs me and I need answers._

Belle started at the hard knocks on the front door and rose to answer it, surprised as Regina burst her way across the threshold. Their mayor was as stylish as ever but there was genuine concern written across her face. "Where is he?"

"I don't-"

Regina didn't care to hear anything Belle had to say. She strode through the living room, calling for him. "Gold! Gold!"

"He's not here." Belle told her as Regina turned to face her.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. You know about the break-in, then?"

"Of course I do." Regina narrowed her eyes at Belle, "I'm sure you know all about it too."

"You know I was in New York with him when it happened." Belle wasn't in any mood to argue with the other woman. She stood firm.

"What a convenient alibi." Regina bit back. "He wasn't meant to stay there for more than a day, but I'm sure you had nothing to do with him extending his little vacation, right?"

"I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with this."

"It's no me you need to convince." Regina shook her head, backing off the accusation. "I know Gold made you stay here after your father broke into his house. Now this. I just came back from the station, do you even know what your father stole?"

"No. Mr. Gold told me to wait here right after we got back to town. I don't have my cell phone."

Regina raised her brows, surprised. "Gold didn't tell you?"

"No one's told me anything!" Belle raised her voice, losing patience. She hated this, being left out to the point where she was ignorant of all the goings-on around her.

Just like Ruby, Regina wasn't impressed with the smaller woman's show of anger. She didn't even blink. "Gold does love his secrets."

"Well, I don't." Belle shot back. "What did my father take?"

"A photo album and a few toys."

"Pictures? Did my father steal pictures of his son?" Belle demanded. Everything was falling into place in her sharp mind - from his immediate anger to his rush back to Storybrooke and the intensity of his reaction on confronting her in the study.

Regina raised her brows again. "Belle, what do you know about Bae?"

The word didn't mean anything to Belle, so she pressed on. "Please, I need to know and he couldn't tell me anything before he left! He was so upset when he came back here, he was just yelling and demanding and so-"

"Do you love him?" Regina demanded, a hand clamped hard on Belle's bicep.

It was a sudden question, something even Gold hadn't asked of her yet.

No matter. There was only one answer.

"Yes."

Regina stared at her, eyes hard. Then, she let go of Belle's arm in a show of acceptance. "Then you need to love him enough not to try forcing answers from him. You don't know everything, but you know enough. You know he had a family once."

"I never knew anything about that, I'm only now starting to piece things together. I knew he had a wife, but he never wanted me to ask about her and I respected that. It was just today that I saw a picture in his office - he was with a woman and a boy. Is that boy his son?"

As before, Belle knew the answer before she even asked the question.

The boy with the familiar smile in the picture, who else could he be?

Regina took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Belle could see that it was costing Regina to say even this much. "He was. Belle. You need to know that Gold is...he's not himself when it comes to this. It's taken him a lot to guard this secret but after today, he had to live through it all over again."

Belle didn't know what to think of what Regina was telling her. Gold was the most in control person she had ever met, but if her father had stolen a photo album with pictures of his son...a son who was...

_I have to find him._

"Do you know where he could have gone?"

Regina nodded. "His cabin. It's the only place he would be after something like this."

"I need directions."

"Directions?" Regina scoffed and offered her keys. "Hell, Belle. You can take my car."

________________________________

Late afternoon spread into the early twilight hours. The high pines darkened the forest floor and the cabin, which suited Gold just fine. The rush of fury had passed, leaving him drained on the sofa. He had broken a few things; decorative pictures and knick-knacks, nothing of value. The only piece in the cabin worth the world to him was set on the coffee table, secure under his protection.

Moe French would not find it here. He'd never get his hands on anything Gold held dear again.

He sipped his drink. He took a deep breath.

Yes, manic fury had fled, leaving the open wound behind in its wake. Memories had risen on seeing the pictures. All of them, a lifetime relived at once. His family had been torn from him, as painful now as it had been twenty years ago. The pain wasn't as sharp, but it was a dull, aching throb against his heart, pulsing with his every limping step.

So lost was Gold that he did not realize the eyes resting over him from the rear corner of the cabin.

A figure passed behind the sofa, trailing fingers through his hair. It came around, passing the small fire he'd built in the hearth, the only light in the cabin.

It stepped closer, and for a moment, all Gold could register was dark hair, light skin and bright eyes.

"Milah?"

He blinked, clearing his eyes. A familiar face, but not his wife's.

The woman shook her head, her voice soft.

"No."

"Oh. Belle, it's you. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. What are you doing?"

"I'm...remembering." He found no reason to lie. This all may be a dream. "And trying not to remember."

Belle stepped in close to him, taking the glass from his grip. "This won't help you."

He watched as she drained the last of his drink herself.

"What will, then?"

Belle shook her head, silent. The glass was set aside. She bent to kiss him, shared whiskey on their lips. Belle came forward, pressing him against the back of the sofa and moved onto his lap. Gold's hands lifted to her waist, her slight weight a comfort. He wasn't alone. Belle had found him, she was here and warm and real.

The kiss continued. Lips lingering, soft and tender. How had it only been hours ago that they'd been lounging together in the high suite? That precious time away seemed to belong to another life. A life far from the life he'd built in Storybrooke.

Belle tightened her thighs on either side of his and moaned into his mouth when his hands smoothed lower to cup her backside. It was her way of calling to him. A sound he knew well.

Gold returned the sound, calling back to his mate. Through magic or the trickery of her clever hands, her robe parted to reveal the bare flesh hidden beneath. He gave a hard pant against her neck and moved the robe aside, his hands returning to her waist, skin to skin. His hands were hot, her flesh was hotter. Belle was flushed and burning for him. The woman who yearned for a monster. Impossible. She dipped her head to kiss him again, surprising him with her sudden fire.

The man kissed her back just as fiercely. The pain, guilt and anger were receding from him, pulling away from the shore of his mind as want rose within him. The tsunami of Belle French was sweeping away everything that troubled him.

She rolled her hips against him, smiling against his mouth when he gasped, his aroused flesh pressing against her. He had proven himself to her three times, pleasing her before himself. He reached between them to touch her, the silent promise that he would please her again, prove himself a man, prove that he was worth a damn, that he wasn't truly a monster, that he was-

Belle abruptly pulled away from him, standing from the sofa. No smile played at her lips as it had when she pulled this same stunt in New York. No smile played at her lips but they were parted, swollen, red. The colorful robe hung open on her shoulders, revealing the flush that spread across her body. Her cheeks, her throat, her chest, her breasts. So beautifully flushed with arousal. Her naked sex was ready for him, he could see. Swollen. Wet.

Belle was panting, her eyes dark.

Without a word, Gold stood up before her, relieved when she didn't run.

Instead, she took his hand, leading the way to the bed. His limp was more pronounced without the cane for support but he hardly noticed. The man was consumed with the woman tugging his hand, her unspoken plea to take her on the bed. He followed her the dozen or so steps and again found her straddling his lap once he sat down on the side edge of the mattress. Belle shrugged off the robe, fully revealing herself atop him. He kissed her breasts, kneading the flesh, encouraged by her soft moans.

A sudden flare lanced through the man.

He didn't want her soft moans now. He wanted her wild, he wanted her _screaming._

And that terrified him.

Gold reached between her legs again, cupping her heated sex. Belle gasped against his throat, moaning her encouragement. She wanted more from him. He was only cupping her, there was no tease of his fingers yet. He fought the urge to play her flesh, fighting himself now. What he wanted from her...God, he couldn't...

"Belle, tell me to stop. Make me stop. Please."

The woman stilled atop him. He was begging her to stop him, some sick part of the man wanted her rejection, it craved the pain of her refusal.

Well.

Not tonight.

Gold felt her nails scrape against his scalp and squeezed his eyes shut.

He felt her tongue at his throat, the soft suction of her lips. The man bit his lip to stop himself moaning at that.

His fingers clenched on her hip when she nipped his earlobe.

Her voice close to his ear, so soft, so pleading for pleasure.

_"Don't stop."_

And he was lost.

Belle gasped as Gold brought her down, hard, onto her back. The man loomed above her, dark eyes boring into hers.

She could see it now, what he needed from her. A sacrifice only she could provide. The gift of surrender.

Gold had been waiting above her, searching her eyes for something, some acceptance, some small gleam in her gaze that she understood, that he had her permission.

Belle nodded. It was enough.

Gold shifted himself down the length of her body, a firm hand spread across her thigh to keep her legs parted for him. His other hand pressed flat against her womb, holding her in place so she could not move away.

Belle knew what he wanted, and she readied herself for him. The woman spread her legs further. She put both her hands over the hand he'd used to anchor her, another gesture of acceptance.

Gold dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her.

Belle released a harsh gasp once she felt the touch of his tongue.

_Yes._

The woman struggled to keep her breathing steady. Before Gold, it had been years since she'd last had a lover and so her body was unused to this intimacy. His every lick, his every nip and hum against her flesh was intensified both by her inexperience and her love for him. And yes, she did love him. She loved him enough to let him use her in this way, her body providing an escape from his pain. She welcomed his dominance, now. God, she _craved_ it.

Belle reached to him, sinking her fingers into his hair, grasping at the locks as he worked his mouth harder against her. Her breathing grew deeper, faster, as pleasure pulsed through her being. Her hips began to roll, trying to move in time with his probing tongue, his massaging lips.

A cry erupted from her throat once she felt his teeth nip at the pearl between her legs. Belle writhed in pleasure, but Gold held her firmly. He would not release her until he'd shattered her - and even then, he would not let her go until he was spent himself.

One hand remained firm, anchoring her to the mattress. The other swept up her body to knead her breasts, pinching the tender pink tips.

Sharp, tiny bursts of pain enhanced her pleasure.

Belle cried out, her hips writhing.

Good.

It's what Gold wanted. He held her tight. He wouldn't let her escape him yet.

He licked.

He kissed.

He nipped.

Belle arched her back off the bed, crying out his name. He could feel her body's quakes. Gold lifted his head to watch the woman. A glorious thing. His woman on fire.

She was panting hard, her body throbbing with the twisted pleasure he'd forced upon her. The man released her just long enough to let her sit up on the bed, to shift her position, but he was quick in guiding her to lay back again.

Gold let his hands speak for him.

_More._

Belle did not resist Gold's strong hands at her hips again, turning her onto her front. She breathed deeply, trying to regain herself from the harsh climax.

_He's not done with me._

Belle bit her lip, pleased, when she felt Gold smooth his hands up and down her naked back, readying her for more. She knew what was coming next.

Gold waited. No refusal came. He moved over her, moving against her as a test, giving her another chance to reject him. She didn't move. Gold used his hips to beg for him, nudging himself in tight against her. Belle tried to stay quiet for him but a soft moan escaped her throat. She parted her legs, allowing him access. His pulse quickened at this unspoken permission.

He rocked forward, touched her there. Belle made another sound, somewhere between pleasure and pain as her body tightened and thighs trembled beneath him. She didn't stop him. She wanted this, badly. She wanted to give him this relief, this haven.

His arms snaked forward over her body, tightening around her waist and hips to raise her onto her knees. He held her with steady hands. His breath sighed against her hair as his hips pulled back and then surged forward with no thought of turning back. Gold sank himself into her body with a deep growl of pleasure. A wild, feral sound. A calling to mate. Gold heard Belle cry out but he couldn't stop himself now to comfort her.

_You're mine!_

_Yes, yours!_

Her fingers curled into the sheets and she bit her lip once she felt him begin to move within her. Only need drove him. Selfish and ferocious need, Gold was taking perverse pleasure with each hard thrust into Belle's body. Waves of pleasure beat back against the darkness within him as Gold chased the peak. It was falling away, the memories, the guilt, the anger, all of it.

_Belle._

He needed her. He needed to own her, to brand her, to empty himself into her.

The pounding of his blood sang it. Sang possession, sang demand and triumph and power. She was his.

This was not the gentle loving Belle had come to expect from him.

This was reckless. Dangerous. Gold raced forward, chasing the escape offered in Belle's body. His hips rocked into her again, again, each thrust more powerful than the last. Gold leaned forward to taste the sweat at her nape, one hand moving off her hip to grope at her breasts, kneading them, glorying when Belle cried out at the touch.

He abandoned her breasts for the apex of her thighs, reached between to stroke her just above where he still thrust himself into her body. He wanted to hear her scream echo through the woods. He wanted them to reach the peak together. He wanted her as desperate as him.

Gold cried out, welcoming the end, the hard waves of pleasure and pain and promise all rolled into one burst of sweet release.

_Yes! Oh, God, yes._

In the moments that followed, Gold's body slowed, then stilled. His breathing evened. His mind cleared.

And Gold realized what he'd just done.

He moved away from her, feeling the pull of her heated flesh against his own. He stood, looking down at Belle and knew shame in a way he had never known it before.

Then, he heard her voice hitch into the sheets, a tiny sob.

_Oh, no. Not her. Please._

Gold had been a fool to hope.

It had only been a matter of time before he hurt her.

He loved this woman and his curse had risen to tear the happiness from his life.

In chasing an escape from his past he had hurt Belle in the worst way a man could hurt a woman.

_I did this._

Gold had nothing, no way to comfort her, no excuse for the monster he'd proven himself to be.

Had he the words, he might have begged for forgiveness, or for her to kill him - some way to balance cosmic scales, his life in return for her violation.

He dared to touch her now, and stroked her back, hoping to convey something of the remorse he felt.

But Gold knew how futile the action was, how late the gentleness and how empty the gesture.

At his touch, Belle moved, sitting up to look back at him. Her eyes were bright with tears. "What was that?"

Gold moved away from her. So much he wanted to say.

_I'm so sorry I hurt you._

_Leave me, I'll only hurt you again._

_I love you, Belle, but you shouldn't have come here._

Words failed him.

All he could do was limp away.

All he could feel was the deepest shame.


	33. Patience

On the bed, alone, Belle swiped the tears from her cheeks and took several deep breaths to steady herself in the dark. She blinked, waiting for her mind to clear. She needed to calm down. Her breath hitched again, half a sob escaping her as she smiled. She closed her eyes. She couldn't leave the bed yet. Not in the state she was in, legs weak and her entire body pulsing hard from their climax.

_Where is he?_

Belle hadn't heard the door, so she knew Gold had to be nearby. She knew he wouldn't leave her, not now. Not after _that_. She wanted him to come back to the bed, to hold her or, better yet, let her hold him. She had come here for him, to offer whatever comfort she could. All men craved the woman they loved in times of upset, Belle knew this, and she knew Gold loved her.

Belle had known he would take what she offered, and so she gave the man everything. Her submission, her surrender. Her love.

And he had taken it. _Yes._ And Belle had gloried in it to the point of tears. _Oh, yes._ She had only been moved to tears in this way once before; it was her first college boyfriend who had taken the time and care to bring her to her first climax and Belle had truly been moved by the experience. It had been the first time that sex had held any meaning to her and marked the end of her more promiscuous years as an angry, rebellious teenager.

That Gold had brought her to tears this night was no small thing.

_Tonight has been...oh..._

The way he'd taken her, touched her, had been so unlike him, so wild and thrilling that once they had finished, Belle had found herself questioning him through her tears.

_"What was that?"_

A fair question, Belle thought. He had only ever been gentle with her. To be so rough, so domineering, so outside of the man she thought she knew...

_Where is he? I have to find him._

Belle took a steadying breath and sat up on the bed, listening. She could hear him moving about in the main room of the cabin. She drew on her robe and went to him.

Five steps and she was standing in the doorway to the main room, watching.

Gold was on the sofa, seated at the opposite end of where she'd found him earlier in the evening. He had a hand over his eyes and his good leg was drawn in to him, while the leg with the injury was set before him on the floor, the awkward, twisted thing.

This was all wrong, and Belle could see it.

In spite of everything, Gold appeared miserable. Belle felt her hopes dim. Despite everything that had changed, despite their love, it wasn't enough. For what he had suffered, she wouldn't be enough to heal his broken heart.

She could see that now.

Belle didn't know how to break the silence, she didn't know how to help. She came forward and sat beside him on the sofa, waiting.

"How did you find me?" He finally asked her, voice thick.

That Regina had stormed the house and told his secrets, including the location of his cabin and even providing her the means to get there, was not something Belle wanted to reveal.

Instead, she simply said, "I followed you."

Gold didn't question her further on that. His mind was clouded, his body spent. His spirit a mass of despair.

"You shouldn't have come here. I hurt you."

"No, I promise you didn't." Belle rushed to reassure him. She took the hand that had been covering his eyes and reached to touch him, guiding him to lift his face and look at her. Tears streaked his cheeks, tears of misery so unlike her tears of joy and desire. That he could think what they had just shared was unwanted or worse, forced, was awful. "I wanted you, I wanted everything."

"You were crying. This shouldn't have happened. None of it should have." This last he said quietly, to himself.

"You don't mean that. You can't mean that, not when we've only just begun."

"Belle, I...am not the man you want me to be."

At that, Belle felt her temper flare. _Why is he saying these things, trying to push me away like this? Whatever happened, whatever it is that's making him feel this way - I won't let it win, I won't let it take him from me!_

"Stop saying these things." Belle squeezed his hand. "The man I want is sitting right here with me. Who is it that you think I want, if not you?"

"I don't know. Someone...whole."

Belle shook her head. "Please, don't say that."

"I'm so sorry about today. For all of it."

"Will you tell me what happened at the police station?"

Gold withdrew from her, seeming pained just thinking of it. Belle took back her request.

"All right, I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me anything. But I hope you do know you can talk to me. We've been friends for so long, but we aren't just friends any longer. Everything's changed."

"I know. I wanted to tell you. I would have, when the time was right."

"You can tell me when you want. I'll be here. In New York you promised me, no secrets."

"This wasn't meant to be a secret. They were my life. I would have told you everything about them, but he-"

"Who?"

"Your father, he was...he's in jail. He was arrested in Sunshire, trying to sell some of my jewels." In recalling her father, Gold's anger returned, clearing his mind a measure from its fog of self-loathing.

The man had a target to focus on, now. A target named _Moe French._

That her father was behind the robbery came as no surprise, but Belle hadn't known of his arrest or what Gold had had to suffer through, being made to relive his past life in the photographs, all he had left of his family, under the eyes of the entire Storybrooke police department.

"He's-?"

Gold pulled away from Belle and reached for his photo album, taking it off the table and clutching it to his chest. "It's the safest place for him. Otherwise I would have cornered him alone and made you an orphan."

Belle kept her eyes steady with his, "After what he's done, he's earned everything that's coming to him."

She shook her head and took a deep breath. She didn't come here to speak with him about her father. This wasn't about him. It was about Gold and this _thing,_ this horrible secret he'd been keeping for so long.

She reached for him again, but he only allowed her to take one of his hands between her own. The other held fast to the album. Belle understood what it meant to him, she wouldn't try making him let go, she wouldn't demand to see his pictures.

Instead, Belle stroked his hand. She was glad that he didn't pull away, and after a time she could feel the tension leave his fingers. Gold trusted her, but he wasn't ready to tell her his story.

Belle took a deep breath, and she realized that it was all right. She never came here to force his secrets, she came tonight to ensure that he was safe, that he hadn't hurt himself in his crazed upset.

An unspoken weight lifted from her shoulders. She was free, in a way. She had been free with her body, her love and her words. It was up to Gold to take what she had to give, and she could wait until he was ready.

Belle surged forward and kissed him, loving the press of their lips but she pushed him for nothing more. The kiss ended but she held him close, stroking his hair.

"I love you. I don't know enough, but I know you're suffering. I can see it. Something happened to you, something so terrible that it's been eating you alive, piece by piece, everyday." Gold said nothing, but the stricken look in his eyes was enough to know she was getting through to him. "Tell me what you need. Please, if I can help, say it and it's yours."

Gold wanted to tell her, Belle could see a longing in his eyes.

But not yet.

"I...I just..." Gold took a deep shuddering breath. "I can't talk about them. Not like this, with everything that's happened. Please, I came here to be alone."

Belle stilled, absorbing his words.

He was dismissing her, that was clear. Rather than grow angry with him, Belle nodded her acceptance. If what Regina had told her was true, that Gold had been forced to relive the trauma that broke his family, then Belle wouldn't push him. She couldn't. To pressure him, to force him to relive it all again in the recounting...it would be so selfish and so cruel.

She was this man's lover and friend, but she had no right to demand the secrets of his past.

Love wasn't pushing a man for what he wasn't ready to reveal. Love was having patience.

"I'm sorry for this, for everything." Gold told her, his grip tightening on her hand. He was sincere, she could feel the remorse in his words. He was sorry for so much more than today.

"No, no. Don't be sorry. When you're ready to talk to me, I promise I'll be here for you. Please believe that."

Belle stood from the sofa and then bent at the waist to kiss him. His lips, then his forehead. Gold lifted his arms and held tight, pressing his face to her womb. "I love you, Belle."

She felt more than heard the words as he murmured the oath against her skin.

The woman stroked her fingers through his hair once more before she turned to leave.

______________________________

Belle sat behind the wheel of Regina's car, her eyes on the dark cabin. Half of her hoped that Gold would come out after her, draw her back inside and confide his every secret to her, only her, because she was selfish and hated that Regina knew more about her man than she did.

The other half of her admitted that she could do with some time alone too; a reprieve from this day might be the best thing for them. Leaving Gold inside had been difficult but he'd claimed to need the time to himself and she wouldn't intrude on that.

In spite of all that had passed between them, Belle was a defiant optimist.

_This day bruised us, but we didn't break. We won't break. We just need time to recover._

Time alone would give them both enough room to outline what they wanted now that everything between them had changed. Belle knew what she wanted, the rest was up to Gold. She knew the next time they saw each other they would give voice to their needs.

Belle started the car and headed back to Storybrooke.

______________________________

Rather than find Regina and explaining what had happened - mayor or not, friend or not, this was no one's business but their own - Belle parked before the mayoral mansion and left the car keys in the mailbox. From there, it was a short walk back to her own apartment building.

She had received notice that the construction was complete, and frankly, Belle welcomed the distraction. She wasn't sure she could stand to be in Gold's house tonight, alone, thinking of him the whole time.

So, it was back to her little apartment.

Belle stood in the doorway and looked over the space. She hadn't set foot inside for weeks, but it was exactly as she remembered it. Bare walls. Mismatched, second hand furniture. At first sight, Belle couldn't see that anything had been changed. Somehow she'd equated the building renovations with a complete makeover on her space but all she could see were new faucets and appliances in the kitchen along with some new crown molding in the living room. It also smelled of stale paint.

Belle opened every window and lit scented candles to freshen the air.

She was alone now. Gold had pleaded for his solitude - he could want a day or he could want a year, she would respect his needs but she refused to ignore her own.

When Gold returned to her, she had terms for the future of their relationship.

______________________________

Belle spent her Monday in much the same way she always had: she woke early, took a shower, dressed herself and then took the short walk to the library to start her workday.

To reclaim her routine lifted her mood; as generous as Gold had been with his home, Belle had missed her space. Her own bed, her view, her full wardrobe rather than the few revolving options of what she'd packed away during the building's construction. She'd put on a favored outfit, thrown her hair into a chic twist and treated herself to a take away latte from the Sweet Tooth bakery.

Belle went in to work, humming as she went about her duties, warm greetings for every patron, recommendations for anyone who asked. The library was fairly busy in the morning, with several of her regulars coming by for books as well as Snow and her excited new readers.

She had shared a concerned look with Belle as the students dispersed throughout the aisles, but they could hardly discuss her relationship while on the job.

Belle wasn't keen on talking _about_ Gold until she'd talked _to_ Gold.

She checked out all the kids and promised to catch up with Snow later on in the week.

When the lunch hour rolled around, Belle considered going to Granny's but just as quickly she decided against it. She didn't have the patience for the questions or the disapproving looks. And besides, Gold was not there at the shop across from the diner so she couldn't invite him to join her; the windows were dark and the crime scene tape had been replaced on the door.

Not that she had walked down Main Street to check.

_Ahem._

Belle assumed the man had either remained holed up in his cabin or he had returned to his house but hadn't gone into town. The thought of her friend, alone and hurting, killed her appetite. She worked through the lunch hour and tried not to worry for him.

More books to check out.

More books to reshelf.

More patrons to guide.

More library cards to assign.

It did her well to keep busy.

Before Belle knew it, the closing hour struck.

Belle checked out a few books for herself and was quickley on her way.

Hunger stirred in her belly and Belle wondered what she could pick up at the grocery for the night's dinner. All at once, she missed New York for so many reasons, but the amazing food was chief among them.

Well.

The amazing food, and having someone special to share it with.

Belle walked back to her apartment, giving a polite greeting to Mr. Dove at the front desk and taking the stairs rather than the elevator. When she reached her door, she found a plain package on the mat. On opening it in the living room, Belle smiled.

Inside was the latest version of the iPhone (gold-backed, she noted with a laugh to herself), a protective case printed with the Manhattan skyline, a pair of earbuds, an extra long charging cable, a lens attachment for the cell's camera and a selfie stick.

A peace offering.

This gift Belle would not reject, since Gold had let his temper get away from him and shattered her old cell back at in New York. It was only fair that he replace what he broke, but his gift was so very generous. As usual, the man had gone above and beyond, far more than what she deserved, let alone actually expected.

Excited to make contact, she turned on the phone and was surprised to find that there was already a text waiting for her on the screen.

**G: I'm sorry.**

Belle smiled at that, and took a deep breath.

Relief.

In sending a gift and a text, Gold was letting her know that he was all right, that he was open to speak. He was giving her the choice, to accept his gift, to accept him, or she could turn away. The choice was hers.

Essentially, Mr. Gold had given her the power.

_Oh...he must truly love me..._

Belle thought on how best to respond, but she just didn't have it in her to be so serious tonight. Quickly, she typed out a text in reply - a fun little flirt never hurt anything, and she was in a bright mood now.

**B: I already forgave you at the cabin or don't you remember? ;)**

Rather than torture the poor man by drawing out this round of flirting, Belle tapped out another message.

**B: Thank you so much for my new phone, I love it already! You didn't have to give me such an upgrade.**

**G: After the way I behaved I should have bought you everything in the Apple store.**

Belle shook her head. The man could be so hard on himself, so heavy. More than anything, she wanted him to be the flirty, playful boy he'd shown himself to be while they'd been in New York together.

She'd only gained a glimpse to that side of him, and Belle wanted more.

**B: Even you can't afford that!**

**G: Try me.**

_Ah, there you are._

Even through text, she could sense his relief. He liked to banter with her even more than she liked teasing him.

_We're going to be all right. I know it._

**B: No. You still owe me a few buildings from New York, but I have a way we can call it even.**

**G: How?**

Belle looked about her apartment and tapped out her reply.

**B: Let's have dinner.**

His reply was near immediate. She imagined him at home, having spent all day hovering over his cell waiting for her to find his gift and make contact.

**G: I'd like that. Where?**

**B: My apartment. Friday night at 8.**

His next reply took several minutes.

Belle knew he was digesting the clear statement she had just made: she was not returning to his house and they would not see each other for several days. An extension of the solitude he'd wanted, and Belle had found she'd needed time to herself as well.

Time, and then some.

**G: I'll be there.**

The woman let it end there, content that they had a date to look forward to at the end of the week. After the intensity of their weekend, the distance would do them some good. It would give her enough time to polish her apartment for his arrival and readjust to living away from him.

This was for the best.

She was sure of it.


	34. The Truth Will Out

Gold watched as Belle's taillights faded down the road that lead to his cabin, and sent her his hopes for a safe return to Storybrooke. The woods were already pitch black even this early in the evening, and it could be difficult to navigate if one wasn't familiar with the road.

The man moved away from the window, returning to his place on the sofa. He couldn't bring himself to the bed they'd just shared. Not yet.

Belle had claimed to want him, that her tears hadn't been brought on by pain. She could have been putting on a brave face, lying to spare his feelings. She was the brave one - so much courage packed into such a small woman. Gold wasn't sure what to think.

Whether Belle had wanted him or not, he'd _used_ her.

Her body had been the vessel of his escape from the day, this horrible day that had unbalanced him to the point of madness. Belle hadn't deserved it. He'd lashed out at her in his study, yelled at her for handling one of his precious pictures and then, here, he'd allowed the darkness he carried within to dominate him, he in turn dominating _her._

Gold shivered.

He had held Belle down as his tongue roamed between her legs, tasting her pleasure, his eyes taking in the sight of her first beautiful, gasping release before mounting her like an animal. A strange mix of remembered arousal and revulsion rolled through the man; he hadn't meant to be so rough, he had been driven by something within. He had been so purely, pathetically desperate for escape.

And Belle had allowed it.

She had been silent in her encouragements. She had gasped beneath him. She had spread her legs, rolled her hips. She never demanded that he stop, she never once said 'no'. Perhaps she had wanted it...but her tears stilled the thought...

A wave of cold passed over him.

He'd never made a woman cry before, not like this.

Gold swiped the tears from his cheeks and took a deep breath. He'd retreated to the cabin to be alone, to calm down from the madness stirred in him by the day. He looked to the photo album, to his family trapped within those pages. Three pages were missing, and each page could hold six photos. So. His album was incomplete. Somewhere in Storybrooke there were eighteen photographs, eighteen memories of a life long gone, and Gold aimed to get them all back.

_By any means necessary._

The man huffed and gave himself a shake. He could accomplish nothing in the woods.

_Tomorrow._

Tomorrow Storybrooke would see the return of Mr. Gold.

______________________________

The next morning found Gold back in his house.

Showered and shaved.

Black suit. Dark red shirt. Black tie. Gold tie pin. Black Oxford shoes, polished.

Determined and ready.

By 9am he had a plan in place.

Dove had already called to alert him of Belle's return to her apartment, and Gold had taken the news relatively well - he only broke one dinner plate.

The man calmed himself by remembering her words of promise, that she would be there for him when he was ready to talk. Well. He wasn't ready to speak of his family yet. Soon, yes, but not yet. Not today. No, he had an errand to attend to. He wouldn't be pressured by Belle or anyone else when it came to this. The truth would out when _he_ chose.

Still.

Gold knew he would need to speak with Belle soon, he had to make up for how he'd behaved - his erratic tantrum was unacceptable. Belle deserved him at his best.

Speaking of his past would be difficult, but sending a gift to Belle would be easy.

Besides - he owed her a cell phone.

Happy to help with a favor - and being more tech savvy - Jefferson had agreed to meet with Gold at Sunshire's great mall and lead him straight to the Apple store.

They had met together in the mall parking lot, and, with no babysitter on hand, the younger man had brought Grace along. Despite the ongoing ache in his heart, Gold had been glad to see his little charge. Jefferson set the toddler on her feet as he withdrew her carrier from the car. On recognizing Gold, Grace had waddled over to him with her arms lifted, calling "Go! Go!" in her demand to be held.

Unable to resist, Gold lifted her up. "Oh, hello Gracie, how are you this morning?"

Jefferson smiled. "She is ready to hit the mall, check this out."

The man had affixed something that looked to Gold like a front facing backpack around his shoulders, and then took Grace from him, securing the toddler against his chest, facing out.

"Interesting way to keep your hands free." Gold remarked. He'd seen these things before, but he hadn't used one when Bae had been small. It'd been a different time.

Jefferson flashed a sly smile. "You kidding me? This gets me numbers every time we go out."

"Ingenius."

Had she the words, Grace would have scolded her father for so blatantly using her to gain female attention. She didn't care for strangers and had decided, quite firmly, that the only woman she wanted to be around was Miss French. But she was happy to be out and about, and Grace babbled happily at both the men once they set off into the Apple store. She smiled at all the passerby who looked her way, she reached to all of the bright, colorful things and kicked angrily when her father took things from her hands that she intended to put in her mouth for a taste.

Close to $1000 later and Gold felt he had the right gift for Belle - a new cell phone and several accessories. Jefferson had gained the phone numbers of two pretty women, shooting an 'I told you so' look to Gold as he flirted and played up his single fatherhood for all it was worth.

The men laughed about it on the way back to their cars. Gold thanked him for his help, to which Jefferson claimed no thanks was necessary. They separated after confirming the next date that Gold would watch Grace - time that Grace looked forward to above all, since Gold tended to spoil her with attention and red apple slices.

On returning to Storybrooke, Gold left the package with Dove to place at Belle's door while she was still at work, and he returned to his house. There were things that needed doing this week. He had to upgrade the security on his shop, file an insurance claim, attend to the notes from his tenants and, most importantly, he had to find a way to get French alone long enough to find out what had become of his missing photographs.

In the cabin, Gold had pleaded his need for solitude, and he planned to make the most of it.

______________________________

Much later in the evening, Gold reread his short text exchange with Belle. She was grateful for his gift and had flirted a bit, teasing him.

He'd liked that.

At the end of their exchange the woman had asserted that she wouldn't see him until the end of the week. At her apartment.

He hadn't liked that at all.

Gold looked forward to seeing Belle for dinner, but this new uncertainty of things was stirring tension in him. Very simply, he wanted Belle back. In the weeks he'd kept her, she had managed to make his house feel like a home again. In greeting him with breakfast in the mornings and catching him on his return in the evenings, Belle had become such a comfort that he loathed the house without her.

It was too big, too empty. He was lonely after the first day without her but he had no right to demand anything of the woman now. The scenario that replayed in his mind of kicking in the door to her flat and carrying her home over his shoulder would regretfully remain fantasy, if only for his bad leg. Somehow he doubted she would be very happy with him even if he only went round to hers and simply asked her - in his sweetest voice - to come back with him.

No.

Belle held the power to determine their future, so all he could do was wait.

In the meantime, Gold chose not to to reopen his shop. Not until he had reoutfitted the building with stronger locks at the very least. Perhaps he had been remiss in his securities, but this was Storybrooke. He had chosen this town years ago for its safety, but the robberies weren't random street crimes, they were targeted attacks by a man who clearly placed no value on anything. Not his daughter, and certainly not himself if he thought he could come at Gold not once, but twice, and expect to walk away unscathed.

Had the day not so shattered Gold, and had French not fathered Belle, he might have just ended the man and been done with all of this.

But there was nothing for it now.

With no shop to tend, no rents due for collection and no Belle to dazzle him, Gold remained in the house for most of the week. He was sure his past had surfaced in Storybrooke by now and he had no desire to see how the people in town would react on seeing him with new eyes. Belle's friends had already warmed to him - should he expect a string of sympathy cards and casseroles now, twenty years after the fact?

Better to remain out of sight from curious eyes.

The hours stretched on throughout the week - after endless hours of Netflix, toying about the web on his iPad, some light yard work, giving his Cadillac an oil change and performing a few experiments in the kitchen that never measured up to _hers,_ Gold was going mad with boredom.

His was a mind that needed work, otherwise he became prone to cabin fever and overwhelming memory.

He wanted to see Belle, but as he'd pleaded for solitude, so had she. No matter how he missed her, in his time Gold had learned to listen when a woman told him - either directly or in that silent way known to all womankind - she needed space, and Belle had made it clear that they were not to seek each other out until the end of the week. She needed time away from him and he would let her have it.

Belle had texted him on Wednesday evening, however.

**B: I did something tonight**

**G: What?**

**B: Not telling. You'll like it though, I promise! ;)**

There had been nothing to follow that, so Gold was left to wonder.

_______________________________

While Gold remained in his home, Belle had busied herself at the library and about town. Thanks to the rent saved during her stay with him, Belle had found herself with extra money to spend. Rather than peruse the shops in Sunshire, Belle helped herself to a few things to brighten up her apartment from around Storybrooke. Nothing extravagant, that wasn't her way. Just a few print pictures to color the walls. The card table was replaced with a plain, sturdy piece bought at a garage sale. A steal for $35; the scarred tabletop she draped with a pale blue tablecloth in hopes of further brightening her space.

She restocked her kitchen, not just for Friday night but for the week and the coming days. Their dinner would be Italian again, a new recipe, not the same ziti they'd shared those weeks ago when things were so uneasy between them.

 _Not that things are easy now,_ Belle thought wryly as she put her groceries away. _But things will get better soon. They will. We have to try._

On Thursday night Belle finished with her apartment and set off to see Ruby, Marcus and Shane. As soon as her new cell was active, she'd been bombarded by texts from her circle so she'd finally relented on the condition that dinner be provided. So it was pizza night at EastGate, a fitting distraction from her fixation with preparing for the following night.

They all greeted each other warmly and spoke of the more trivial goings-on in their lives, but this being a small town, there wasn't much to say before the focus shifted toward Belle and the fabulously mysterious Mr. Gold.

It began with Ruby admiring Belle's nails, still gleaming gold from her manicure at The Four Seasons.

Ruby took Belle's hand and looked at her nails in the light. "Ooh, I love that finish! You didn't get these done here, did you?"

"No, I got my nails done over the weekend. Birthday treat for myself." That wasn't much of a lie - Gold had insisted that she treat herself to the hotel spa.

Having just paid the delivery boy, Shane set the pizza boxes on his kitchen table while Marcus brought out paper plates. "Marcus and I were thinking about a weekend in New York. Care to share about your trip, any sites to recommend?"

At that, Belle smiled. With everything that had happened, she hadn't had a chance to talk about all she'd seen and done in the city. "Oh, it was great! Mr. Gold had to look at a piece for the museum and they put him up at The Four Seasons. I've never been anywhere like that before, it was just like in the movies. He left to go to work for a little while, so I went to the spa." Here Belle waggled her gold-tipped fingers, "And wandered around the hotel, just looking at the artwork they had in the lobby and doing some serious people-watching."

Marcus took a slice and set it on a plate, handing it to her, along with a can of Dr. Pepper. "See anyone famous?"

"No, nothing like that. Just lots of trophy wives."

Ruby whistled. "That's the life! I need to get out of this town."

"We all do." Shane agreed, taking his own slice and reaching for a beer rather than a soda. "I feel like the older I get the smaller Storybrooke becomes."

The foursome settled in the living room, happily tucking into their dinner.

"Well it doesn't get bigger than the Big Apple." Belle quipped. "Mr. Gold wrapped up with the museum and when he came back he took me to dinner and then to see _Phantom of the Opera_ \- the show was brilliant! I even bought the soundtrack the other day, I've been listening to it nonstop. The next day we went to Central Park and-"

"Anything else?" Marcus interrupted with a sly look.

Ruby and Shane had gone still and were leaning in, clearly intent to hang on her every word.

Belle decided to play coy. "What do you mean?"

"Like, what else did you do in the city?"

"We went to lunch, we saw the bull statue on Wall Street-"

"And what _else?"_ Marcus prodded. "What _else_ did the two of you get up to while you were in New York, alone together at The Four Seasons, away from Storybrooke?!"

"Oh, you mean _that."_ Belle said, only almost succeeding in keeping herself from smiling at his questions. Ruby snorted a laugh while Shane just seemed amused.

"Yes, _that!"_

"You can't mean to imply that Mr. Gold would even think of trying anything inappropriate just because we were away from home? He's a true gentleman, Marcus."

Marcus rolled his eyes at her. "You mean to tell me after all this that's happened in town and then with him sweeping you off to New York, there's still nothing going on? What a waste! What's the matter with the two of you?"

Ruby threw a balled up napkin at him, "Marcus what do you care if they hook up or not?"

Shane smiled. "He's mad because we made a bet. If nothing happened then he has to pay me $5."

This time, Belle threw napkins at both the men. "You were making bets on my sex life?!"

Shane put his hands up. "Come on, Belle, it was just a friendly wager between us nosy perverts. Speaking of, pay up Marcus."

"I never said you won that bet." Belle snapped at him, and the room fell silent.

Ruby smiled, "Oh, Belle. Please, please, please tell me that Mr. Gold gave you a very special present for your 'Dirty 30'!"

At that, Belle smiled back. "You know a lady never tells...so where should I start?"

Ruby cuffed her on the arm, "I see a little of 'Bad Girl Belle' showing through. Did Mr. Gold get to meet her on your birthday?"

 _Bad Girl Belle_ was Belle's nickname from her more wild years in high school. After her mother had left, she had pounced on that as an excuse to act out in predictable teenage rebellion - skipping school, fighting with her father, and a string of short-lived rowdy boyfriends before she'd cleaned up her act after graduation.

Bad Girl Belle had been put to rest for the last ten years, but every once in a great while she would reappear to stir up some fun trouble. Belle pointedly dabbed at her lips with a napkin, trying for prim and proper. "Ahem."

Marcus lifted his beer bottle in a mock salute, "Congratulations! I believe that $5 is mine now, Shane."

"Don't worry, babe, you'll get your money. I feel like we should send a bottle of champagne over to Gold's."

At the mention of the man, Belle kicked herself. She shouldn't be speaking of this now, given all that had happened. She couldn't help herself - she'd needed someone to talk to about this all week and she trusted her friends to be discreet with anything she told them. "Don't send anything his way just yet. We hit a rough patch on Sunday."

"Trouble in paradise already?"

"Yes and we can thank my father for that." Belle scowled.

Shane nodded. "We've heard."

"Yeah, the diner was all about the robbery for the last few days, but Mr. Gold is smart. I mean, he has to know you had nothing to do with what happened." Ruby said reasonably.

Belle nodded. "He does. He never blamed me for my father breaking in and taking his things."

"So why're you fighting? What I heard was that Moe broke into the shop, stole some jewelry and he was caught trying to sell it in Sunshire. I'd be angry over the break-in, but Gold got everything back so what's the problem?" Marcus asked.

Clearly, the revelations of Mr. Gold's past hadn't reached as far as he'd feared. Belle shook her head. She loved these people, she truly did. They had all been friends for years and years now, but the suspicions Belle had about her lover and his shaded past were not meant for their ears. Gold was already an intensely private man, he wouldn't want her to be speaking of this with anyone.

So rather than speak of Mr. Gold's pictures and the boy who shared his smile, Belle shrugged. "We're not fighting, we're just kind of...figuring things out. Getting a feel for things, this is all still so new. The construction is done on my place so I've invited him for dinner tomorrow night."

"You've gone back to your apartment?"

"Yes. After Sunday I decided that we needed to take a breather." Belle said. "Tomorrow will be the first time we've seen each other since then."

"Sounds a lot like you're trying to date after you've already went away on your honeymoon." Shane remarked as he started in on his next slice.

Belle couldn't help but laugh. "That's not a bad way to put it. Now that we've assured how we feel about each other, I want to do things the right way."

"And what's he said?"

"Nothing yet. I guess I'll find out how he feels about it when he comes over tomorrow."

Her friends wished her luck, and Belle knew she would need every bit of it.

_______________________________

Friday's daylight hours were spent in anxious preparation by both parties.

Once Belle had wrapped up for the day at the library, she'd rushed home to her apartment to shower, restyle her hair and reapply her makeup. Once she was dressed, she started their dinner and looked over her space. She'd cleaned the apartment from top to bottom just the night before, but she checked and rechecked to make sure everything looked perfect.

Gold had only visited her apartment once, and that had been a surprise invitation the night of the storm. He hadn't insulted her but Belle had been embarrassed nonetheless, hence her effort to refresh the space with his visit in mind.

As Belle stirred the sauce and checked the clock again, she tried to calm herself and wondered what the man must be thinking now.

_This is going to be a disaster._

In his notorious house on the hill, Gold scowled between two outfits.

The first: a pinstripe navy suit, white shirt and navy tie.

The other: a black suit, dark green shirt and matching tie.

Either choice would be adorned with the tie pin he'd worn since the previous Christmas. The tie pin and his cane and the assortment of gifts he would bring along with him to dinner. But first he had to choose. He wished for Jefferson to come and just tell him which suit would flatter him most tonight, for he felt rudderless in a hurricane. Gold took a breath and tried to remember who he was meeting in - he checked his watch - one hour.

_I've never been nervous over meeting Belle before. Now is not the night to start._

Gold knew she would welcome him. Despite his more pessimistic imaginings, he knew Belle wouldn't slam the door in his face over the color of his tie. Still, though. Given how fast things had moved between them in New York and how frayed their connection had been by the end of the weekend, Gold knew he needed to put his best foot forward.

The man huffed out a breath and made a blind choice for the safety of his black suit, pairing it with a black tie rather than the green. The night's attire wasn't the reason for his anxiety. It was the past, forever looming over him that had his nerves so twisted, his chest so tight. No, trivial things were not what troubled him. Tonight, to prove himself to the woman he loved, he had to gather courage and tell the truth of his past.

Belle demanded nothing, he had to offer this freely.

He hoped it would be enough to save them.

_______________________________

Friday night.

8pm. On the dot.

There was a knock at the door.

Belle smiled to herself. _Right on time._

The woman took a deep breath, smoothed the skirt of her dress, checked her reflection one more time and opened the door.

And there he was.

_And there she is._

For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other. To have been separated after so long a time spent together and now, so suddenly reunited after what had been shared, was purely _electric._ Belle gave a sharp inhale at the sight of him, a sound that Gold echoed immediately after. The strongest thing that Belle felt was relief to see that Gold was all right. At the cabin he'd been so on edge, so full of pain and self-loathing that she would have moved mountains to help him.

But he had rejected her help, pleading for solitude.

She was so relieved to see that he'd used the days spent alone to recover.

Similarly, Gold felt a deep tug inside at the sight of her. Belle was as lovely as ever, and she looked fine. He hadn't hurt her, she wasn't damaged by what he'd done. In fact, she wearing her brightest smile.

"Hello."

The word broke the silence and so broke the spell over Gold. All at once he remembered where he was, and why he was here. He cleared his throat and shifted the things in his arms. "Hello. I, um, I brought you some-"

Belle nodded hurriedly, suddenly feeling unbalanced. "Oh, come in, I'm sorry."

"It's garlic bread."

"What was that?" Belle asked. She shut the door behind him, and turned back to find Gold standing in the middle of the living room looking a little lost.

"I, um, I brought some garlic bread." He repeated. "If it'll pair well with dinner. And a few other things. I hope it's all right."

Belle remembered the first night she'd made dinner for them to share. Then, as now, he'd brought garlic bread and wore that same hesitant expression.

"That's perfect, thank you." Belle took it from him. "Can I take your jacket?"

Despite availing himself of the bread, Gold's arms were still full. "Yes, thank you. Only, if I could set these down?"

Belle resisted the urge to face-palm herself for not thinking. "Sure, just let me take it all-"

"Oh. Here, it's red and a good year. Will that work?" He asked, showing her the label to the wine he'd brought.

"Yes, that'll be perfect." Belle said, guessing all the way. Really, she didn't know her wines any better than she knew her whiskeys. Either way, she took the bottle, nervously tapping her nails on it.

"And these. It's a mixed box. I was at the shop and realized I didn't know what you liked." He said as he handed her a box of Godiva chocolate.

Here Belle gave a soft, disappointed smile. "Oh...I'm allergic to chocolate."

"...ah."

Gold didn't have anything else to say.

_Brilliant start for tonight._

Belle tried to brighten for him. "But that just means more for you - I've heard these are delicious. I'm actually jealous."

She hurried to put everything on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. Gold rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. He should have asked. He should have _known._

Belle swished her way back and Gold realized the change in her. "Oh, you dyed your hair again."

Indeed, her usual chestnut hair held an auburn cast now, much as it had when she'd wrangled him into the role of Rumplestiltskin. She nodded and touched her hair. "Yes. It's the same red as last year."

"That's what you did Wednesday night, isn't it? You were right, I do like it. It's very pretty."

"I forgot I texted you." Belle smoothed her hands down the skirt of her dress once more, an unconsciously nervous gesture. "It was just time to make a change."

Her words unsettled him. Gold could already sense her need to take control for herself - the very fact that they were in her apartment, on her ground, rather than in his house was proof enough of her need to change the dynamic between them.

"I, um, my hair's not the only thing that's changed." Belle told him.

"Oh, no?"

She nodded, "Have a look around. I've spruced the place up a bit since the last time you were here."

Gold remembered her apartment being a bare little space and asking her if she hadn't just moved in. Now, there were pictures on the wall, a few decorative pillows on the sofa and a small vase with flowers set in the center of her clothed table. On the whole, her apartment was warm and inviting. A sweet little retreat from the whole of Storybrooke. She'd even drawn back the curtains so they could take in the view from the large window.

Gold smiled to her, "I like it. You're pleased with the construction work?"

"The lobby got the remodel. When I got back I couldn't see any huge difference to how it was before. The crown molding is a nice addition, but it wasn't exactly life-changing." She said with a shrug. "Are you hungry yet?"

"Always for your cooking." He said, and he hoped his joke would be enough to crack this new tension between them. It was such a strange, unbalancing thing, to feel that his friend had become a stranger to him. He wanted _his_ Belle back, but he couldn't have her yet.

Again, the price for Belle was his honesty.

The woman knew it, but it seemed that an understanding between them had emerged: Gold had to be the first to speak of his past.

Until then, they would carry on with this awkward farce of a dinner date.

Well.

If Gold was going to speak of his past, he wasn't sure he had the strength to do it on an empty stomach.

Or fully sober.

"You'll like this - it's a new recipe I found. It'll go great with your wine."

Gold followed her toward the kitchen. "I could certainly do with a glass."

_Or better yet, the whole bottle._

______________________________

"This...did not turn out the way I was hoping." Belle said as she poked at the dish with her fork. The pasta was rubbery; she'd used too much sauce and too little cheese.

_I had to have missed something on the recipe. I was trying too hard to make tonight perfect, second-guessed myself and overlooked something. Great job, Julia Child!_

Across the table, and on his third glass of wine, Gold was similarly poking at his noodles. Her brave little soldier, he'd eaten through most of his serving. "I like it."

"Don't lie. We both know that _this_ is not my best work." Belle sneered at her plate. Her temper was rising, angry with herself. Some hostess she made. She wanted to throw their plates out the window and start the whole night over.

"Don't be hard on yourself - after the week we've had I know I couldn't have done any better. I'd be burning salads."

Belle shook her head. She felt like a stupid little girl, incompetent and dull. She pushed her plate aside. "I'm sorry for this. So much for a nice night in."

"No, no, the night's not over yet." Gold hurried to say. "Let me help you clean up and then - oh, can we watch a movie?"

Belle smiled at that, glad that Gold was trying to recover things though she thought he was just stalling. He knew they had to speak of troubling things tonight, he just wanted more time. Belle decided that she shouldn't let some bad noodles spoil their evening. "That sounds perfect."

They stood from the table and took their plates to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink to soak. Belle made coffee and they carried their mugs into the living room. They sank down to the sofa and she scrolled through the Netflix menu. They chose some banal action movie that neither of them paid any attention to. Gold kept his distance from Belle, and she likewise didn't push for any intimacy from him. No cuddling this time, which was all right for now. Neither was much in the mood to try when this _thing_ was in the air between them, making their every glance and word fraught with discomfort.

But time passed, the movie rolled on.

Earth was invaded by CGI robot aliens. There, a car chase. Here, a gun fight. There, another car chase with more explosions. Michael Bay at his finest.

For forty-five minutes, the tension seemed to ease and they held hands like middle school students on a first date, smiling lightly to each other and for a moment, when they looked at each other and smiled, it had seemed that their evening was on the road to recovery.

Until Belle's television went to a static screen and then shorted out completely, Belle jumped up to fix it, tossing the remote to Gold, who attempted to catch it and missed, spilling his coffee everywhere instead.

Belle looked about her apartment, from her busted flat screen, to the kitchen with their ruined dinner and a huge box of chocolates that she couldn't eat and then back to Gold, trying to sop up the mess.

_And what a mess._

"Tonight was a disaster." Belle said plainly as she helped him clean up the last of the coffee. She felt the sting of tears welling in her eyes.

Gold huffed out a short laugh, agreeing. "Why, yes it was."

"I wanted everything to be perfect." She sniffed. "I don't know what I did wrong with dinner."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Stop trying to be nice! It was awful and you know it." She snapped, tossing the coffee-soaked napkins aside and hugging her knees to her chest on the floor. She was being childish, just another thing to spoil their evening.

Gold moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in to him. He kissed the crown of her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't think to ask about your allergies. And yes, dinner was awful."

Belle laughed and shoved at his chest. All at once, the tension lifted. She swiped at her eyes and threw the napkins in the trash. It had taken a slight breakdown to lift the weight from her shoulders. She came back to the living room as Gold stood up from the floor and moved in, twining her arms around him in a hug. She took a deep breath, taking in his scent and reveling in the comfort he gave her.

Sometimes, a woman just needed to be held.

While Gold was uneasy with what he knew was still to come, he was pleased that he could settle Belle. He felt better after holding her too, but his stomach knotted when she pulled from his arms and took his hand to lead him toward her room. She paused at the door and looked at him over her shoulder. "There is one part of the apartment I haven't shown you yet."

"Oh, aye?"

"Oh, aye. Follow me."

Belle released his hand and stepped through the doorway. Gold stood, taking it all in. Belle's bedroom, her most private space. The room was small to start with, and made smaller by the full bed that dominated the floor, the large book case against the far wall and the nightstands on either side of her headboard. As he'd come to expect, her book case was overflowing with paperbacks and magazines, a few short stacks of books were on the floor just beside it, its surface was covered completely, nearly buckling under the weight of the novels atop it.

One of her nightstands housed a jewelrybox, a lamp - for reading at night, he was sure - and a few pieces of makeup. The other held a framed photograph of Belle's parents, an alarm clock and an empty water glass. Her bed was a full size covered with a patterned blanket of blue and green diamonds with cream sheets. On her walls were landscape prints, a mirror and a large corkboard covered over with candid pictures of Belle and her friends.

All about him there were tiny pieces of Belle.

He was surrounded by her. A great comfort.

Gold took in a breath when he felt Belle's arms come around him from behind. He closed his eyes, leaning into her and shivering pleasantly when he felt her lips at his earlobe and throat. His mind was sinking, the dread and heartache falling away from his concern. This was where he wanted to be, the only place in the world that he felt safe and loved.

Well, not here. Not this apartment. It was anywhere that Belle was, that's where he wanted to be. This is where he belonged, with her.

Belle shifted, guiding him back until he felt the edge of her bed against the back of his knees and he sat down. Belle remained standing between his spread legs, her fingers carding through his hair and guiding him to look up at her. Gold shivered at her soft command, "Undress me."

Her adoring slave, Gold obeyed without a word. He stood and let his hands roam over her back until he found the zipper to her dress. He guided the straps down her arms, and he knelt before her so that she could step out of the garment. He then removed her kitten-heeled shoes, allowing Belle to rest her hand on his shoulder to keep her balance and wasn't that a new thing? No woman had depended on him for balance in years.

Gold stood, looking at her. Rather than blue or black as he'd seen her before, Belle was wearing a matching set of lavender and cream. The colors were a beautiful compliment to her light skin; her hair appeared all the more striking for it, just as the woman had intended. He reached to the lace at her hips but Belle stilled his hands from disrobing her to the nude.

Belle held his eyes. "Now you."

Gold gave a soft smile and nodded. The man went about undressing himself; first his tie pin, tie and cufflinks, and then the rest. His shirt, belt, shoes, socks and trousers. He set his clothing aside and turned to Belle for more guidance, but she shook her head. "No. All of it."

He knew what this was about, now. Belle had lured him into her room to ease the way for him; this was an effort toward guiding him into honesty. Stripping him of his defenses, both literal and metaphorical. Leave it to a librarian to make an example of symbolism in real life. God, she was amazing.

"Belle...this wasn't how I wanted this to happen..."

"Can I ask what started all this?"

"All _this?"_

Belle motioned between the two of them. "Yes, this. Everything that's happened since that first day between you and my father, what did he do to you?"

"He stole something precious to me."

As ever, the answer he gave was no answer at all.

"Will you tell me what it was?"

"It...it was just a trinket. A toy sailboat." Gold told her, his fingers twitching. Tension was mounting in the man but he was determined to stay calm for her questions. Before the night was through, Belle would know everything. He started to pace, needing to put some distance between them. He felt himself tearing with each word, his secreted past being torn from him in an offering to her.

"You attacked my father for stealing your toy?" Belle asked. She stood near her book case, wishing she could ease the tension in him. This was costing him greatly, she knew they were only edging the truth now.

Gold cleared his throat, "He didn't know it was just a toy. The sailboat is a fine model - I've kept it in the study for years, but I'd moved it out to my mantle just to see how it would look. Your father assumed it was an antique and took it, thinking I'd forgive his debts to get it back. He was wrong. I'd have _killed_ to get it back. I might have done, if you hadn't come."

"And when you got it back, you put your boat in the shop safe."

Belle watched him closely. He had stopped pacing and took a deep breath, steeling himself to tell her, "I bought it, but it wasn't mine. That boat...belonged to my son."

The woman raised her brows in surprise, for this was the first time Gold had volunteered his past to her. His words confirmed her suspicions and the little that Regina had told her. A son. A wife. Her man had had a family years and years ago, before they had ever even met. Belle went to him, taking his hands. She hadn't expected him to tell her so soon, she knew what revealing his past was costing him.

He loved her to trust her with this.

"You have a son."

The raw hurt in his eyes, the sudden anger there, was striking. "Just the one, my son. I _had_ him. Had. Had and lost. So what your father thought to be just some antique to be ransomed, it had a bit more personal value to me."

It all made sense now, why he had reacted the odd way he had that first night, why he had attacked her father yet claimed to care nothing for the art and the furniture he had ruined. Gold's attack had been over the desecration of his son's memory.

"You lost your son." Belle said the words, feeling the gravity of his loss, his pain, weigh down on her. Tears welled in her eyes for what he had suffered. "I'm so sorry."

Gold shook his head, looking away from her. He couldn't take pity now. "Save your sorry. It's done. I got my things back from him at the police station. What I'm still missing, I will get back even if I have to raze his house and shop to the ground to find them."

Belle knew how ruthless he could be. Gold wouldn't hesitate to tear Storybrooke apart. That's the man he was. "And you think it'll make things right?"

"Oh no, but then I'm not in the business of making things right. I can't even say it would make us even." Gold pulled his hands from hers, and rubbed at his face. "No. To be even, you'd need to disappear, and what he had left to remember you by would need to be violated."

Belle closed her eyes for a moment. "What happened to him, your son?"

Unnerved, Gold tried to dismiss the question. One last infantile attempt to cower away from the memories rising in his mind, the fear that his bond with Belle would suffer because of his failure in the past.

"It...it was a long time ago, it doesn't matter."

The petite tigress wasn't having it. She knew recalling this was hurting him terribly, but holding on to his secret would hurt him far worse than the truth. _She loved him._ She couldn't let him go on like this. She had to break her word and press him for the truth now. "It does matter. You were ready to go to war over a photo album. You kept toys locked away in a safe. And you said yourself his boat was precious to you, so please, tell me about your son."

Belle's words tore through him. Half of him wanted to tell her everything, but speaking of Bae, remembering his boy, it was a harsh twisting of the knife in his heart.

"He was everything to me, and taken before he even had a chance to...I can't. Enough of this."

Gold made like he was about to flee her room - the space felt suddenly too small, too hot. He could see Bae's face as a newborn, a toddler, a child. His son. _His son._ Gone. Never to speak or laugh again, the lost boy who would never drive, never shave, never date, and _all because I'm such a weak pathetic-_

Belle rose up and twined her arms around his shoulders, forcing the embrace on him, as much as act of comfort as if was an effort to restrain him from leaving. So much of the man was making sense to her now: the cold facade that was so at odds with the kindness he showed to Henry and little Grace. He was so broken and wretched, so lonely. The father cursed to search for the son he would never see again.

Gold claimed losing his son to be in the past, but Belle knew better. He had closed himself off from connecting with anyone; for years he had loved nothing, and allowed so few to love him. But his son, the boy with the boat - surely he had loved his father, as Gold had so completely loved him.

"He wouldn't want this for you."

Gold attempted to step out of her embrace, but Belle held fast to the man, even daring to stroke his hair. She wanted to soothe his temper and hurt, but he was pulling away, her compassion burning him. "What are you doing, Belle?"

Belle pressed on, fighting to say the words to confront him with the past he pretended so long buried. "Your son would want you to be happy. What happened wasn't your fault - he forgives you. Your son forgives you."

Gold finally managed to pull her arms from him, furious tears coursing down his cheeks and his voice ragged as he held her by the upper arms, shaking her in his anger. "Let me go! What do you know about him?!"

Belle shook her head. "I know he loved you, and he would forgive you. He would want you to forgive yourself."

It all hit him in a rush of pain. "No! He's gone, Bae's not coming back. It was my fault, I couldn't save them. I lost them, I lost everything."

Gold swiped the tears from his eyes and found himself so weak that he couldn't fight her when Belle embraced him again.

"No. Not everything. You have me."

She kissed him. His tear-stained cheeks. His forehead. A last, lingering kiss to his lips.

Gold pulled from her, but not fully. He kept her in his arms. As before, he needed her strength. "Belle...not like this. This isn't how I wanted things to be between us."

"How did you want it to be?" She asked him softly. "Did you think we'd be together, and you'd keep all of this from me?"

"No. I would have told you. In New York I had made my choice. I would tell you when I chose. When _I_ chose. It wasn't supposed to be like this, such a disaster and so damn soon after things began between us."

"When would you have told me?"

"I don't know. I would have told you at home, in time I would have taken you with me to the gra-" Gold cut himself off with a strangled sob. "Belle, this isn't how I wanted to tell you."

She kiss his lips. "I love you. I'm so sorry."

Gold allowed himself to be held by his woman, taking the comfort she offered. When he gave a deep sigh, he felt that his entire body was relieved of the weight he'd carried for decades. She held him, she held him. He stroked her bare back, from just under the strap of her bra and down to the curve of her hip. Beautiful Belle. "Oh, Belle. I love you too."

Belle likewise stroked his back, reaching under the hem of his black undershirt to touch his skin. On instinct, Gold pulled away. She shook her head at his reaction. "You said you love me, and I believe you. You love me." Belle kissed his lips and pressed her forehead to his. "But you don't trust me."

"Belle, I do-"

"How can you? You can't even trust me enough to let me see you." She chided him softly. Here she gestured to his chest, the flesh of which she had never seen. Each time they had come together, Gold had worn an undershirt and guided her hands away whenever she tried to touch him beneath it.

She kissed him and whispered his name. "Talk to me, please. I'm begging you - don't let what happened to them kill what can happen between us."

"I want this. I want you, but what happened...I don't know how to start. I've let things get away from me this year." Gold confessed. "First when I went away in the winter and then keeping you at the house and then with the album being taken. It's all been too much. Usually I'm fine. I think of it every day, there's no way to get away from what happened, but I've been able to carry on, in my way. I never had to talk to anyone about it. Everything's changed, now. There's you. You're here."

She nodded and kissed his hands. "I am. I'm here for you when you need me. If you've never talked to anyone about this, never shared any of it, then your family has become something twisted. Until you can speak about what happened, you'll be a haunted man."

Her words struck something inside him, some deep ringing truth.

A moment of clarity.

The pain would only stop once he showed Belle the truth.

Gold pulled away, sinking down to his knees before her and pulling off his shirt.

And here Gold paused, summoning the courage to face this, and he told her a world of tragedy with four simple words.

"It was a fire."


	35. Comfort

Belle held Gold close, carding her fingers through his hair. He was leaning forward against her, pillowing his head on her chest, cheek to breast.

He had confessed his story to her, the story of loss that had slashed misery across his life. Decades ago, before Belle had even set foot in Storybrooke, there had been a fire where a man, once so happy and proud, had been robbed of everything.

He had had a wife, Milah.

They had had a son, Baelfire.

A unique name, one that Belle had never heard before. Asking after it he told her it was an old Celtic name. They had called him Bae for short.

Bae.

Before Anything Else - there was Bae.

His lost boy.

_"It was a fire."_

A fire.

A horrible flash fire at the motel where the family had been staying as the house was undergoing interior work. Gold and Milah had woken to flames and the screams of their terrified child. They had rushed out to find Bae, but Gold hadn't been able to reach him. Here is where his story lost focus. Something, some burning debris had fallen on him, pinning his body and knocking him unconscious.

The man had woken from emergency surgery days later to scars, a limp and a black hole in the world where his family had lived.

_"It was my fault."_

Belle held him tighter, stricken by the raw, bleeding fury in that statement. Tears coursed down her cheeks, all her sorrow for him and how he'd suffered through these lonely years.

He had been the one to surprise Milah with the work for their house, it'd been his idea to pack the family off to the motel for the weekend, dressing the whole thing up as a little adventure out of town. But then, everything had been ruined. The fire. The screams. The panic.

He had been too slow, too small, too weak to save his son and-

Here, Belle stopped him.

Gold had been kneeling before her, confessing his shame through a well of tears. She hugged him close, letting him cry into her shoulder. Her friend. Such pain, such suffering. How unfair and sad it was, that he had carried this secret for so long, not trusting himself or anyone else with it. It terrified and ravaged him to face this - Belle could see it, the years of nightmares and pure loathing he'd lived through, chaining himself to a house of memory, a town he hated and was forcing himself to call home until the end of his days. He blamed himself for everything he lost and had been inflicting punishment on himself every day since.

Belle had not expected this. A loss that cut him so deep, a tragedy kept secret for decades. As his story unraveled, it was all so much bigger than she'd thought it would be. The woman cooed to him, and reached to stroke his back in a show of comfort, but Gold scrambled away.

"Belle, don't - oh, God, I'm sorry."

She shook her head. She understood now. She had felt enough to know.

Belle crawled to him on her hands and knees, to where he had backed up to her book case. Had this been any other night, she would have been happy to embrace this fantasy: Mr. Gold undressed for her and surrounded by her favorite novels. Now, her thoughts ran toward comfort rather than lust.

"Hey, it's all right."

"I thought I would be strong enough to face this by now." Gold sniffed, his sobs having ebbed away. He felt a great weight was lifted from him; he felt worlds more relieved for having told Belle. She deserved the truth and he trusted her with it. Still. She would never see him in the same way again after this. Perhaps that was for the best. A man could only hide behind a mask for so long.

Belle sat on the floor before him and rested her elbows on her tented knees. The lighting in her room was dim, but she could see the burn scars that extended up past his forearm, over his shoulder. He was facing her to hide his back but Belle could well imagine the scars there. She'd felt them.

Her poor friend. All he'd suffered and lost.

"I'm a weak-"

"No, no. There's no time when you would be able to face this without feeling _something._ I could never love you if you did."

Gold massaged his temples. "God. Twenty years." He gave a harsh bark of a laugh. "He'd be about your age."

Belle reached to take his hand. "Tell me about him?"

Gold took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. "Belle, if I start to speak of him again...please, I'm so tired."

She nodded and moved to stand up. "I understand. It's been enough for tonight." She found his cane and gave it to him, helping him to stand. "I know how hard this has all been for you. I do. Thank you for telling me."

Gold cleared his throat. He felt so raw, like an exposed nerve. He felt broken and restitched together and turned inside out, all thanks to her. And embarrassed, if he was honest. He had wanted to tell his truth to Belle in his own way, not break down and sob all over her in his underwear.

"I pictured this going so differently."

Belle shook her head and cupped his face, kissing him. He had lamented this before. "I know you did. If I had the power, I would go back and change everything for you. Everything."

"Mmmm."

"There is something you could do for me, you know."

"What's that?"

"Tell me about this." Belle said, and here she began to trace over his tattoo with one of her golden nails. "You always told me wonderful stories when I would visit you at the shop."

"Did I, now?"

"Yes, always." Belle smiled at him, hoping he would smile too. If he could smile, then she knew he'd be all right. He wouldn't be lost in despair, he'd recover from tonight and be able to start anew with her. Belle wanted that more than anything. "Now, I've got to know how the always formal and put-together Mr. Gold ended up with some ink."

Gold scoffed at that, but he didn't smile. Not yet. "You make me sound so uptight."

"Well, you do wear a suit everywhere you go."

"Not to bed. Usually."

Playfully, Belle swatted his arm, right on the tattoo. "Oh, please! You wear cufflinks on your pajamas."

Still, no smile. Just a quirk of his lips in a show of amusement. "Only when I take very official naps, Miss French."

"Oh, don't start that again. Come on, give a girl some gossip. I'd love to go around Storybrooke tomorrow, being the only one to know why you have a lizard on your arm."

Gold straightened his posture and planted both hands on the handle of his cane, trying to appear distinguished and failing spectacularly as the man was still clad only in his boxer briefs. "It's actually a gecko." He sniffed.

Belled smiled and kissed him again. She was still hosting him in her home. More had to be done to comfort him, her most beloved guest. "Can we try something to fix tonight?"

"What?"

She began counting off on her fingers. "Well, the dinner I made was a disaster, I'm allergic to that chocolate you brought, my television is shot and we've cried together all night."

"Not the dinner date you had in mind." Gold agreed. When she listed everything out like that, this night was well and truly wrecked. "What do you suggest?"

"A bath." Gold frowned but Belle pressed on before he could outright refuse her. "We can finish off the wine, light some candles. I've wanted this for so long. Please. I think it'll be...romantic." She batted her lashes at him.

Gold rolled his eyes at her. "Fine."

Belle frowned. "Hey, it's a bath, not a root canal!"

"I don't want you to see-"

"Stop. You can't keep trying to hide from me." Belle took his hands. "I want to see, because I want you. Do you honestly think I would reject you for your scars?"

"No. No, I know you won't. I just...it's been so long since anyone has seen them." Gold admitted. As most of his scarring was over his back, it was too easy to hide them from himself. He had become comfortable doing that for years.

"This is a night of exposure. You've told me so much." Belle took his face in her hands and kissed his lips. "Now it's time to show me."

Belle lead him into the bathroom, a small, simple space of white tiles, a sink, a toilet, and the surprise of a large tub. He watched from the doorway as she lit a few candles and began to fill the tub with steaming water. She dribbled bath oil into the water and cracked open the window for a breeze of fresh air, though she was careful to keep the blinds down.

Once the water was deep enough, the woman turned to him and removed her bra, freeing her breasts. Gold struggled to keep his face impassive, restrain the urge to go to her right then and there. Her breasts tempted him, and Belle knew it. She said nothing, but winked at him as she slipped the matching lavender lace from her hips and stood before him, fully naked.

Belle crooked her finger at him, her smile pure evil, and in that moment Gold would have chased her to hell and back.

He took a step into the bathroom as Belle eased herself into the water. She hissed pleasantly as the heat took her, his little sea nymph. Gold came to stand before her at the edge of the tub. He only had to slip off his underwear before joining her, and Belle hadn't taken her eyes off him for even a moment. Though they had made love over their ill-fated weekend away from Storybrooke, Belle had yet to fully _see_ her lover. She had no complaint over his prowess, but she was curious.

Gold, however, was shy. He gestured for her to turn away. "I've stripped for you enough tonight. Look away."

"No!"

"Yes! Turn around so I can get in behind you."

"If you get in behind me then I won't be able to see-"

"I would prefer it that way."

"Now you're just being stubborn." Belle huffed and gestured to her nude self. "You've seen all of me."

"You're prettier than I am."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Gold. Get in the tub."

Gold scowled at her. He was unused to being given orders, so he returned her command with one of his own. "Turn away."

"All right, fine."

As soon as Belle turned away, playing fair by obeying him and even closing her eyes to boot, Gold removed his underwear and eased himself into the water, facing her from the opposite side. Belle opened her eyes and looked at him as discreetly as she could. She was not disappointed.

"See something you like?"

She blushed furiously at his question. "No! I mean... I wasn't..."

Here, Gold actually gave her a real smile. "Calm down, Belle. I was only joking."

Belle covered her face with a wet hand. He had done it again, twisting her own intentions against her. She wondered if he pulled this trick with everyone in town. If he did, then it was no wonder why he was so hated. "I hadn't planned on dying of embarrassment tonight, but this evening hasn't been going as planned at all."

Gold didn't say anything to that, instead he spread his arms to rest over the tub rim and relaxed in the hot water. Belle wanted to relax, but lounging in the tub, opposite each other with only their feet touching, wasn't the romantic scene she'd intended. Carefully, she maneuvered herself in between his back and the edge of the tub, positioning him to lean back against her.

She wanted to wash his hair and message his temples and neck, but the man wasn't having it.

Gold frowned. "Belle, it feels strange like this."

"What, the water?"

"No. I like to be the big spoon."

That much was true. Gold wasn't a large man, so he'd happily enjoyed Belle's petite size whenever they'd embraced or lain together in bed.

"Be a little adventurous for once." Belle urged him.

Gold shook his head. "Switch."

Belle huffed and shifted around him, muttering, "You're driving me crazy." under her breath.

"Not yet." Gold promised. To ease her mood, he reached forward and drew her to lean back against him, reversing their positions.

_Much better._

Belle wouldn't admit it, but she was more comfortable this way as well.

As tiny as she was, it was easy for Gold to look over her and see the length of her nudity before him. For a moment, he envied Belle; the natural comfort she had with her own body. Not once had she stopped him to turn off the lights or given any of that 'Do you think I look fat?' nonsense. No, Belle was her own woman and she owned every inch of herself.

Such freedom.

Before the fire, Gold had been a confident man. He had never dreamed of a time when he would depend on a cane just to cross a room or even hesitate in taking off his shirt. When he was alone, the scars didn't bother him. He could almost forget. It was when the women asked to _see_ and then asked _how..._

Cora had wanted to know everything. He hadn't been ready to face the past, or her. They had agreed to break from each other for that very reason. The women who came after Cora had all been such brief couplings that his proclivity to keep covered in bed had never come up. Zelena had asked him one night, and thankfully she'd been satisfied with his vague answer of not wanting to show her some surgical scars. She had said she understood. Something about understanding the need to put on your best face.

But Belle.

She coaxed without pushing. Usually. She'd given him the push when he needed it and demanded nothing more. Probably for the best. Gold was done for the night. He would tell her the rest in time. For now, he would hold on to his other secrets. They could wait for another night.

He shifted Belle against him and rested his hands over her belly, drumming her skin lightly under the water. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, content here in the hot bath and the glow of her vanilla candles. For awhile, they just rested together, quiet and content, but Gold was only a man - it was beyond him to keep all self-control when he had the woman he loved naked in his arms.

Gold moved his hands, dragging his nails lightly over her skin, rising to cup her breasts. Belle took in a breath. Gooseflesh shivered over her skin. He could feel her breasts come awake, pebbling against his palms.

He bent his head to drop a kiss on her shoulder, then lightly bit her, only just grazing her with his teeth. Her hands, which had been drifting in the water, clenched on his thighs, just over his knees.

"You don't have to."

Her words surprised him. "You don't want this?"

"I just...tonight wasn't for me."

The man had been forced to relive the hell of that fire; she should be tending to his needs now, not the other way around.

"Mmm." Gold kissed her shoulder again. "Let me make tonight about you."

Belle laughed, and he was so glad her laughter was genuine. He hadn't truly laughed since their time together in New York. God, everything had been so simple and bright before Storybrooke had intruded. Oh, he wanted to go back to that time.

She rested her hands over his, still cupping her breasts. "Are you sure?"

"No man could say no, Belle." She could feel his arousal against her back. He hooked one of his ankles between her calves, drawing her legs apart. "Tonight has been too much about me. You've worked so hard for tonight. Please, let me..."

Belle sighed and let her eyes slip closed, recalling the times when this had all been a fantasy, the fevered dream of Mr. Gold with her in the bath.

Gold felt her relax further against him, her silent permission, and so he began.

His hands began to move over her breasts, kneading the plump flesh and plucking at their flushed tips. He had ever been a man who adored the bodies of women, and if every man had a type, then Gold would admit he favored fair-skinned brunettes above all others. His first had been Milah. Years after her was Cora. Now Belle.

Belle, with her creamy skin and her dark auburn hair and those bright eyes that haunted him.

He kissed at her throat and tugged on her earlobe, giving her the slightest edge of pain she craved. She sucked in a quick breath and didn't fully stifle her moan. Good. He didn't want her quiet, now. Tonight he would hear her pleasure.

Gold moved a hand, brushing down her side, relishing the shivers that raced over Belle with his light touch. He murmured to her how beautiful she was, how he wanted her. In response, Belle turned her head to kiss him, her sweet sipping kisses of devotion. She told him what she wanted, what she'd dreamed of him doing to her while she'd bathed here alone.

His fingertips danced down the length of her body and then between her legs. Belle moaned and shivered, her breasts tightening even further for him. She parted her legs wantonly, opening herself to his touch.

"You want this, Belle?"

"Yes, yes, please."

Her begging was arousing in and of itself, and Gold swelled with satisfaction. He had tamed the woman as surely as she had tamed him. Belle writhed against his hand, undulating her hips to match his rhythm. It wouldn't be long, now. Belle's breaths were short and pleading, her legs shaking between his own with her feet braced on the opposite side of the tub wall.

He stroked her petals, then pinched her pearl and the tip of her breast, the surprise of pain enough to shock her into a heated climax. Belle panted hard as she came down from the rush. Her body shuddered against his, the proof of her pleasure. Gold held her, letting her breathe and recover. He was pleased, but when he shifted his weight he hissed in pain. He'd been in this position too long and his leg was aching. He nipped her earlobe, keeping his voice low. "Belle, we need to get out of the bath."

His woman rolled in the water to face him, her skin flushed. She cupped his face and kissed him, the climax still rushing through her blood, feeding her hunger rather than having sated it. "Stay with me tonight."

"Stay?"

Belle surged forward to straddle him, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. In a swift movement, she'd tucked her legs on either side of his hips, her sex pressing tight over him. She rocked her hips, dragging the length of him back and forth between her legs.

"Yes. Stay with me tonight. Please, say yes."

Gold gasped, less from the arousal of being mounted and more from the pain that flashed in his injured leg. "Ah, Belle, get off."

"I just did, it's your turn now."

"No, I mean, _get off._ " Gold said, and he clasped her by the hips, lifting her from his lap and bending his leg to relieve the painful pressure.

Water splashed across the floor, soaking the mat. Belle furrowed her brow with worry and reached to the faucet to start the water draining. Gold was massaging his leg over the scars, his eyes stressed. "Belle, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it's just my leg, it was-"

"No, no." Belle dismissed his concerns, "You didn't hurt me. Please, tell me. Did I hurt you? Can I get you anything? Do you need medicine?"

"It wasn't you, not really. Just being in one position for too long, it kills me."

Belle quirked her lips at him. "This has been a rough night for you."

"I've had worse nights than this."

"I'm sure you have." Belle glanced away from him, to the water that was quickly draining away.

She moved out of the tub and slipped into the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, then brought out two large towels from the cabinet below the sink. One she laid down on the floor to absorb the water, the other was for him.

Slowly, for his leg, Gold stood from the tub and was grateful when Belle cradled his elbow to help him keep his balance. He wasn't sure his ego could take a naked slip in her bathroom.

He reached for the towel and made quick work of patting his chest and arms dry, then securing it about his waist.

"Oh, look at you."

Gold glanced to her over his shoulder, forcing himself to remain still under her scrutiny. He took a deep breath.

"I would have told you about my family, but I never wanted you to see my scars." He said quietly.

Belle stepped closer to touch him, thankful that he didn't pull away now. She splayed her hand over the left side of his back, tracing over the puckered skin with her fingertips, the uneven texture. Such a striking contrast to his right side, which was largely unaffected. She remembered what he'd told her, his last memories in the fire being of heavy burning debris falling on him, crushing his leg on one side, burning him terribly on the other.

Belle looked at him plainly, taking in the sight of his naked backside. The scars on his back reached over his shoulder and down his arm. She could even see that the scarring crept up the left side of the nape of his neck. _Ah._ No wonder he'd grown his hair long. His hair and his suits - the armor against revealing his secret scars to the world.

Belle embraced him from behind, hugging him tight and pressing her cheek to his scarred shoulder. "Remember New York? No secrets. You promised."

Gold put a hand over hers, where she'd crossed them on his chest. "I know."

"Come on." Belle came around to face him. "It's been a long night and you're so tired. I can see it. Let's go to bed."

"I never could say no to a lady."

Belle giggled at him. "And now's not the time to start."

She moved ahead of him into her room and turned down the covers, tossing her robe to the side and sliding into bed naked. She patted the open side of the bed in silent invitation. It would be the first time they'd slept together since New York. Gold nodded to her, leaving his towel in the bathroom and joining her under the covers. He settled in, resting on his back as was most comfortable for his leg, and drew Belle in to rest her head on his shoulder. They sighed lightly, and he drew idle circles over her skin with his fingertips.

Eventually they drifted, changing positions, their breath evening as their bodies gave in to the emotional exhaustion brought on by the past week's stresses. Gold couldn't sleep yet, his mind was still a swirl of tragic memory and the immense relief for having shared it. Belle had held him as he'd cried for what had been lost, she'd caressed the scars left in the wake of that fiery night. She loved him and dear God, did he love her.

"Are you still awake?"

Gold blinked. He thought Belle had been asleep. "Yes. I thought I'd be out as soon as my head hit the pillow but I can't sleep."

She rolled over to face him, nevermind that her room was pitch black. All she could see was a vague shape in the dark. "You went through a lot tonight. Thank you for telling me about your family."

"Thank you for listening. I think I needed that more than anything. That and a kick to get me talking." Gold found her hand somewhere under the covers and brought it to his lips.

"I saw you were in pain. I couldn't let it go on. Getting you to talk was the only way to make it stop."

"Thank you, Belle. Thank you." Gold pulled her in closer and kissed the crown of her head. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Belle kissed his cheek in the dark.

She was so brave, but her next words were hesitant, as if she had something to fear from him. "Go to sleep. There's a lot we need to talk about in the morning."


	36. A Fresh Start

Gold spent the night deep in sleep. A black, heavy peace had settled over his mind for hours. The emotion of the night had caught up to him, the man was wrung out and empty. He did not dream.

Belle woke before him, pleased to see her man resting so well. After the dam in him had burst, spilling the tragedy of his past, he deserved a good night's sleep. Love for him swelled in her chest, a possessiveness, an instinct to protect him. He deserved so much from her. After everything he had done, Belle knew she'd never be able to repay his generosity. Not in dollars. Gold had struggled to become a wealthy man, but he didn't want money from her. She knew that there were other things a man craved, all of them very simple.

The company of a friend. The warmth of a woman. The passion of a lover.

Belle paused at that. Passion. Weeks ago, her only glimpse of his passion had been in the anger he'd shown toward her father. In New York, his passion had been turned toward her and, at her invitation, it had ignited every secreted wish between them. He'd been so gentle during their weekend away, only becoming rough with her on their return home. Her chest flushed, remembering him in his passion at the cabin. She'd surprised herself at how lovingly she'd submitted to him. His dominant side had thrilled her. He'd held her down, trapping her in the bed as his tongue explored between her thighs. He'd mounted her. She still wore the bruises from that night.

Yes, there had been such passion there.

She thought of the time they'd shared in the bathtub and a wicked idea slithered through Belle's mind.

Belle lifted the covers. They had slept in the nude, fully exposing themselves to each other. She was pleased that he hadn't redressed himself while she slept on, as he had in New York. No, no. He was there, as naked as she was.

His hands had played her like a violin several times, but for whatever reason, he'd never insisted on her attending to him in the same way. Perhaps he'd only been waiting for the right time. Belle smirked like a villain. _Well, no time like the present._

The woman reached down, dragging her golden nails lightly down his chest and belly, then took him in hand. It was not her first time touching him. In the dark of their room in New York, Belle had felt him. He had allowed her hands to explore him that night, letting her feel him to prepare herself for their joining. He'd stopped her from teasing him too far that night.

Well.

He couldn't stop her now as she curled her fingers around him and began to tease the length of him. Stroking, sliding, cradling and lightly squeezing him. The man didn't stir from sleep, but a certain part of him was waking in her hands. Oh, Belle liked this. She felt power in seeing the evidence of his sleeping lust, all due to her touch alone. He was _hers._ Hers to love, hers to protect.

She continued, watching him, impressed as he swelled with arousal. He grew hard, standing tall and throbbing in her hands, and Belle was just about to lean forward to taste him when she felt a strong hand curl into her hair, fisting through it at the roots just behind her ear, guiding her to look back at him.

Gold was awake, and breathing hard, struggling to maintain control. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he moved to sit up against the headboard, his hold on her hair not loosening an inch. Belle liked the tight pull at her roots, that sting over her scalp. The heat that had been simmering inside her since the climax he'd gifted her with in the tub flared to life and _she wanted him._

Gold was glaring at her, almost angry with the force of his own wanting. It was an anger that Belle echoed as she looked back at him, a sudden rebellion bucking through her as she twisted out of his hold, baring her teeth like a wild animal, ready to fight for her life. The idea lit fire in her. A fight, that's what she wanted. She wanted to fight him, the victor claiming triumphant. From the gleam in his eyes, the man was spoiling for a battle as well. Before, their joinings had been sweetly passionate, and then at the cabin, Belle had offered herself to take on his pain.

Now, though, she wanted him to fight her for it.

Gold released her hair and made a grab for her upper arm. He pulled her off-balance and tried to roll her beneath him, but Belle was quicker, and stronger than he had assumed as Belle shoved him off, pinning him back against the headboard. Gold grasped her forearms and leaned forward, forcing her off-balance once more. Belle fell softly onto her side, his grip on her still strong as he tried again to come over her.

But Belle would not submit.

The woman brought her nails down and clawed at his chest. Gold hissed at the scratching and released her, moving away to get out of the reach of her nails. Belle surged forward, pinning him back to the headboard again, right where she wanted him. An evil smile spread over Belle's face as she pounced, straddling his lap, her hands on his shoulders, her knees up on either side of his hips with her sex hovering over his aroused stalk of flesh.

They were both panting lightly. Their skin was flushed.

Gold reached forward and tapped Belle on her upper arm, twice.

In tapping out, he was admitting defeat.

Belle had won.

_Oh, yes._

Her smile changed, becoming softer. Belle did something sweet, breaking the tension between them. She dipped her head and gave Gold a kiss to the forehead, a gesture more of love than of the angry lust that brimmed between them. Despite the injury to his leg, Gold was a man of energy. He could have gone on fighting her, but in their struggle, lust overwhelmed his competitive side.

Had Belle given in, he would have ridden her, brought her pleasure as he drove her into the mattress. Rather, he forfeited their struggle, tapping out just to see how Belle would take the reigns on him.

The woman did not disappoint.

Gold cupped her face, and Belle turned, kissing the center of his palm. Then, before Gold could utter a word, Belle moved, and brought herself down on him, enveloping his flesh with her own. Gold cried out in surprise, but Belle claimed his mouth with her own and so claimed him. She began to move, rolling her hips over him, drawing him in and out of her body, tightening herself around him with each movement. Gold's hands traced down her sides, to her waist to help guide her movements, but Belle was having none of it. She grasped his hands and pinned them on either side of his head against the headboard, their fingers laced.

This was Belle, claiming her love.

This was Belle, taking power.

She rocked against him, inhuman growls encouraging Gold to move with her, faster and harder. She had taken a taste of him when he'd needed to take her roughly, and this was her response. She needed him, bearing up, deep beneath her, his body impaling her own. She threw her head back, crying out, and reached to cradle his head to her chest to encourage his lips at her breasts. Gold breathed in her scent, then began to work against her, licking and mouthing at her breasts. Drawing the flushed tips in with his lips, nipping them with his teeth, glorying in Belle's shocked gasps. She loved how he played her breasts, how loving he could be in one moment, how he could shock her with a bit of pain in the next.

Belle speared her nails into his hair, scratching over his scalp when she felt his hands on her waist again, sliding down to cup her haunches, squeezing her, guiding her to move fasted and harder against him. His mouth left her breasts to claim her lips. Their kiss was a brutal, feral thing. All clashing teeth and dueling tongues.

She twisted her hand in his hair as she continued writhing against him. In return Gold pulled her hair, forcing her head back to expose her throat. He kissed and bit her there, and again Belle fought him. Oh, he liked this. Making love was a battle this morning. Belle would not let him keep the upper hand over her for long; she didn't want him to give her that burst of pleasure, she wanted to take it for herself.

She cupped his face and kissed him again, words spilling between each brush of their lips. _Harder. Faster. Now, yes, yes, oh, yes!_

They gasped against each other with each thrust, the pressure and heat mounting, climbing higher and higher until Belle heard Gold shout out her name and the telling heat of him swell within her, the jerking movements of his flesh she could feel throbbing inside her own sex. He had broken first. That triumph alone was enough to push her over the edge. Belle fell, her body taught as a bowstring, tightening around him painfully, so tight and hot, her body shuddering, her breasts teeming as her entire being sang out with the rush of pleasure.

Gold caught her when she fell against him, limp and panting and boneless. He cradled her to him, his own body still pulsing. He was grateful for the headboard and pillows at his back propping him up, otherwise he would have collapsed on her sheets. His hands stroked her back, trying to calm and comfort her. He kissed her temple. _My beautiful Belle. You crazy, wonderful woman._ Gold tried to move but after a subtle shifting of his hips, he found he could not withdraw from her body, not yet, the grip of her most intimate muscles refused to release him. That was fine, he decided. He was content with her atop him, surrounding him.

They laid together, a panting sweaty mess.

Gold realized he could feel her pulse pounding around him where they were joined, a strange sensation, this throbbing heartbeat at her core.

He lifted his hands to her hair, spearing his fingers through it to bring it away from her face. He kissed her, reverent. Such a woman and he belonged to her. Belle had marked him, her nails had clawed him bloody. He had been too overwhelmed by her to notice at first, but he noticed it now. Ten tiny streaks of blood, five on each shoulder from where her golden nails had bit into his skin as she rode him.

Scars he would happily wear, proof that he was _owned._

Belle returned his kiss before collapsing on his chest once more. The woman was spent. So was he. Even if she'd commanded it of him, Gold wasn't sure he could recover quickly enough to satisfy her a second time this morning. Later on in the afternoon or evening, on the other hand...

"Are you hungry?"

Gold blinked. He could eat, but, "I'm not so hungry that I can leave the bed yet."

He could feel Belle's smile against his chest. "I'll get breakfast started, join me in the kitchen when you find the energy to move."

She shifted herself to separate, the both of them groaning as he withdrew from her, then secluded herself in the bathroom. He closed his eyes, still trying to catch his breath as he heard the water running from behind the door. Men and women couldn't be of the same species, he thought sluggishly. They were too different in too many ways. The energy that women had right after sex never ceased to amaze him. And, now that he thought about it, his women had always offered to make him breakfast after sex in the morning. There was a true compliment in that, he supposed.

Belle emerged from her shower, nude and strutting, still wet. She flicked water at him from her wet hands, found her discarded robe from the night before and drew it on. Then in classic Belle fashion, she tickled his feet, causing him to yelp and jump up, before she left the room laughing at him.

A few moments later and he could hear the clatter of pots and pans, and Belle's sweet morning song echoing out from the kitchen.

_Crazy woman._

Gold dragged himself from the bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower. The hot water was a great aid in refreshing him, clearing his mind from the daze of pleasure from just moments ago. He felt a slight stinging from where Belle had clawed him, and as he soaped himself he realized he actually felt sore. That hadn't happened in years.

 _Good God, what is she doing to me? Please, don't let her stop._ He thought to himself with a wicked smile.

Gold stepped out of the bathroom, grateful that Belle was still in the kitchen so he wouldn't have to limp about naked before her. All men looked ridiculous when stripped, and his limping gait only made the picture worse. He had trusted her with so much the night before, his secrets and his scars, but the man still had his pride.

He put on his underwear, trousers and undershirt from the night before, leaving his dress shirt and shoes in the bedroom. He found the woman arranging plates of scrambled eggs and sausage links for them in the kitchen. She wore nothing beneath her splashy kimono robe, making him feel slightly overdressed. Recalling the lavender lace set she'd worn the night before, he decided he liked her more colorful taste in lingerie. He'd stock her closet at the house with a set in every color and shade he could find. A selfish gift, perhaps.

"This looks delicious, Belle." He complimented as he took a seat at her table.

The woman brought a bottle of ketchup to the table for him along with their coffee.

"I had to make up for last night." She said, wrinkling her nose. "I don't know where I went wrong with that recipe. Maybe I'll try it again, but not anytime soon."

Gold shrugged as they began to eat. He could barely remember what she'd made for dinner, some over-sauced pasta disaster. He'd been so anxious that he would have eaten a bucket of nails if she'd served it. Anything to stall for time. "Don't worry about that. It's my turn to cook anyway. Any requests?"

She shook her head and touched his bare foot with hers under the table. "You know I'm not picky, I like everything."

Gold finished his breakfast a bite before she did, and rose to take her plate into the sink. Belle tried to follow, intent to clean up, but Gold shooed her out of the kitchen. Once he'd dried the last dish, he found Belle on the sofa with her iPhone playing some low jazz tune and the box of Godiva he'd brought set on the ottoman before her.

"What are you going to do with those?" He asked, taking a seat beside her.

Belle reached to him, guiding him to lay on the sofa with his head in her lap. Gold took a deep breath, content beyond words as she began to stroke through his hair. He could fall asleep right then and there.

"I'll give most of them to Ashley. She's had a chocolate addiction since middle school and everytime we go to the Sunshire mall she has to stop at the Godiva store. I swear, she doesn't leave the shop without spending at least $25 on candies or chocolate-covered pretzels and strawberries. She's a card-carrying member, she even has a whole section on her Tumblr that's all about her favorite flavors."

She began to massage his temples and Gold was in heaven. "Mmm, she's a girl obsessed."

"Yes, she is. She tells me all about the different kinds of treats they have in the store because she knows I can't enjoy them myself."

"You poor, deprived girl."

Belle bent forward and kissed his forehead. "Mousse meringues." She kissed him between his brows. "Sablés biscuits." She kissed his lips, resting her hand on his chest. "Raspberry truffles."

Her voice had dropped to a low, husky whisper. Gold reached to guide her down to him again for a deeper kiss. How she'd made something as common as candy into something erotic was beyond him, but by God, he wanted her again. Not with the fury of the morning, but a long, slow, sweet loving...

Belle ended the kiss and reached past him to retrieve the box, setting it on the arm of the sofa. "I can't eat these, but you can. I want you to tell me everything you taste."

This wasn't what he expected, but Gold understood what she wanted.

Belle was a woman of words. Despite her wild teenage years, she'd excelled in high school, particularly in her English classes. In college, she'd earned a degree in Literary Studies. On her entrance into the sparse offerings of Storybrooke's workforce, Belle had worked in the town's sole bookstore. When it had closed its doors, Belle had fought for the signatures needed to open a library.

She was forever a woman of words and now, she wanted words from him.

"I think I can do that." He grinned at her.

Belle scraped her nails over his scalp, sending a delightful shiver down his spine. "I love your accent."

"Really?"

"Yes. You sound distinguished."

"Mmm. You wouldn't have thought I was distinguished if we'd met while I was still home in Scotland."

Belle looked up from opening the Godiva box. "You don't think so?"

"I know so. I left decades ago, but when I was there I was loud, rowdy, always running about with my mates. I'd been in fights and got into some trouble when I was younger. Everyone has to run out their wild years before settling down, I think."

"You might be right. I had my crazy years in high school."

Gold stroked her arm. "And how crazy did you get?"

"I fought with my father almost every day."

"Imagine that." He deadpanned.

Belle pinched him and went on, "I ran away a few times, but this is Storybrooke so I never went very far. Usually I would just stay with Ruby or Jasmine for a few days. I picked up smoking for a little while, but I gave that up before graduation. I never skipped school for long, though. My classes were like a refuge. And this part is a huge cliche, but yes, I fell in with a few bad boys."

Gold scowled, but said nothing.

"I never really cared for any of the guys I was with, these drop-outs and low dealers. I don't mind a man with rough edges, I like someone with a bit of a dark side to match my own." Belle met his eyes for a moment before looking away, going back to stroking his hair. "But they were going nowhere and even then, I knew it. It was a thrill at the time, but any man who runs around with a sixteen year old clearly has his own problems."

Gold furrowed his brows, in full agreement with her there. Yes, there was an age gap between them but it was negligible given that Belle was a grown woman. He hated to think of some unworthy older man taking advantage of Belle's teen self. "Why did you want to waste your time with someone like that in the first place?"

"He was old enough to buy alcohol." Belle shrugged, feigning indifference to her past. "He got what he wanted from me, and I got what I needed from him."

Gold thought on that, wondering after Belle as a girl. She would have done better with a few words of loving guidance rather than some older boyfriend keeping her in drinks. "What did you need?"

"A distraction from what was happening at home."

They were quiet for a moment, feeling the weight of her words. _How selfish I've been._ Gold reached for her hand, ready to draw out her past as she had for him. Now that he'd finally relieved himself of the burden of his secret, he knew what a loving balm it could be. He knew her mother had left, and that her father had taken a downward turn, alternatley blaming and neglecting Belle for the loss. And Belle, just a teenager at the time, had had no one. That was over a decade past, but he knew that some wounds never healed with time.

"Belle, you can tell me."

The woman gave a minute shake of her head, refusing to answer his unspoken questions. She didn't want to speak of her own secrets now. Instead, she stroked his hair again, and reached for a chocolate. A round, dark candy with a bright swirl of caramel atop it.

Gold, ever her obedient slave, allowed her to feed it to him. This was an interesting reversal to his dream of feeding her in his bed. He still wanted to do that, however, and so he needed to gain a list of everything that brought on her allergies. Reality had an annoying habit of butting into their fantasies.

"Hmm. It tastes like..."

Belle drummed her fingertips on his chest. "Yes?"

He chewed, swallowed. Savored the taste. "It's a salted caramel truffle. A dark chocolate shell, very soft. It breaks easily under the teeth. Your first impression is the dark cocoa. Bitter, akin to black coffee. It rolls over you and then, it begins to melt on the tongue, coating your mouth. It's so rich."

Belle kept on stroking him, pleased. "Go on."

"After breaking the shell and past that first wave of bitter chocolate, a new taste blooms on the tongue. The caramel filling. It's loose, the texture of it almost a thick syrup. Caramel is too sweet on its own, this has been blended with sea salt. There is an edge just under the sweet surface. Like you, Belle."

Belle blinked at his last statement, coming out of the trance woven by his voice. "Me?"

"Yes. For so long, I thought of you as being so sweet and simple. All hearts and flowers with your bottled sodas and day dresses. I've come to learn a bit about you, Miss French, a stark reminder never to judge books by their cover."

Belle smiled down at him and pinched his waist though his shirt. Gold jumped and Belle's smile became a wicked, teasing thing. She'd found his tickle spot. "Go on, you. Tell me about..." Belle fished in the box for another, and withdrew a pink candy. "This one."

Again, Gold ate the morsel from her hand. He let the flavors roll over him, the tartness, the creamy texture. He hummed in pleasure, as much for the mingling tastes in his mouth as he was for the comfort of being in Belle's lap, her hand stroking through his hair.

"All right. This one has a milk chocolate shell. No trace of bitterness, but it's not purely sweet. You can scent the strawberry before you taste it. In biting through the soft shell, you are flooded with rich strawberry purée. The tart of the fruit...it shivers through you, it's almost sharp. It's a punch of dominant flavor, but it's not alone. Just underneath it, creamy vanilla mousse. It rises high to overtake the strawberry. You're left with a blend of flavors mingling on the tongue, sweet and tart and smooth. Delicious."

"God, I'm so jealous of you." Belle said dreamily. "You make me want to lay in bed and eat chocolates all day."

"That's a fine fantasy...and the fast-track to diabetes, love." Gold joked as he moved to sit up beside her. "How serious is your allergy? Maybe you could try just one."

Belle shook her head. "One wouldn't kill me, but it makes my throat swell and itch. I'd rather not invite Dr. Whale to our little day in."

Gold nodded, filing her allergy way for the future. "I understand. As soon as we return to the house, I'll rid the kitchen of anything with cocoa. I'll have to say goodbye to my mint Oreos, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for you."

Belle put a hand over her heart and fluttered her lashes at him. "My man, he would scale a mountain for me!"

Gold tapped the floor with his cane. "Maybe not a mountain, but I can manage most foothills."

She nodded and nudged his leg with her bare foot. "Somehow I doubt that."

Gold caught her foot and tickled her, payback for when she'd pinched him. Belle shrieked and squirmed away. "Not my feet!"

"You've just revealed a weakness, Belle!"

"You'll use it against me?"

"Of course."

"You are pure evil!"

Gold laughed at her, "I've been told as much. Don't underestimate me, dearie."

"I never have."

"You did for a moment, there. I told you, I can manage hills and you doubted me." He admonished her. Little did Belle know that Gold enjoyed his short hikes in the woods. He never would have been able to keep up with Henry if he had allowed his injury to keep him from adventuring outdoors.

"You're right, I apologize. Do you think...?"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe we could go back to the cabin and you could show me."

Gold drew back from her at the mention of the cabin, the cold reminder of what had went on there. "Why would you want to go back to that place?"

"What do you mean?"

"I hurt you at the cabin."

"No, you didn't."

"I made you cry. I've never..." Gold cleared his throat. "I meant what I said, I'll never behave that way again, Belle, I promise."

"Never?"

"Never. Never again. You have my word."

"What a waste!" Belle laughed.

He was thoroughly confused now. "What?"

"I know I cried, and I should have explained." Belle took his hands. She knew how troubled he was by this, and so she strived to be as clear as she could. "I wasn't crying because you hurt me. I wasn't crying because you scared me. I cried because...what we shared that night, it was so intense. It was...different from anything I'd felt before. You were so different that day."

"I showed you the monster." He admitted quietly.

"Yes. And I loved it."

He blinked. "What?"

"It was a different side of you, and nothing I'd expected. But it was still _you."_

"No, no. Please, I wasn't myself that day."

Belle wouldn't let him hide behind such an excuse. "No, you were yourself and that's what really upsets you, isn't it?"

"...yes."

"I love you." She told him, and there was such quiet power behind her words. "I loved you for months before New York. I loved you at the cabin. I loved you last night and this morning. I would never reject you for showing me another side of yourself, you have to know that now."

"You are so fearless." Gold told her. He felt awed by her, everything she'd been through, the betrayal suffered from those held most dear, and still she carried on beautifully. No, they were nothing alike at all.

"No, I'm not fearless. I was afraid for you last night. I was afraid to upset you by asking about your family. I was afraid you would end this rather than tell me the truth. I was afraid for nothing. You might not believe it of yourself yet, but you were brave. It's a brave thing to trust someone else with your truth." Belle's light faded slightly when she told him, "I haven't trusted you with mine yet."

The man squeezed her hands. "You can. When you're ready."

"Thank you" She smiled softly. "I'm like you, I want to tell my secret but I want to do it my way."

Gold tickled her foot again and Belle squealed. "You want to have things your way, do you? You must get that from me."

"I like having things my way, that's why I had my way with you his morning." She said boldly, stunning him.

Belle used the opportunity of his moment of shock to pounce on him for a kiss.

When they broke, color was high in his cheeks. "You can, ah, have me that way again anytime you want. I am in your hands."

"Mmmph, not yet you're not."

Gold groaned softly into the column of her throat. Just when he thought she couldn't get better, she started in with the saucy talk. "Belle, come out to Sunshire with me today. I'll take you to lunch, a proper day out for us. Then when we get home, I'll take you to bed and-"

Belle put a hand to his chest, pulling from him. "Wait."

"What?"

The woman shook her head, her eyes cautious now. The lust fell from them, and her face clouded. Their morning games were over. "Last night, I told you we need to talk."

Of all the things a woman could say, 'we need to talk' ranked among the most worrisome. He shifted back on the sofa, giving Belle the space she needed. This sudden gravity when he'd mentioned taking her home could only mean one thing. "You're not coming back with me, are you?"

Belle shook her head. "No."

"You're not ending this."

"No." Belle took his face in her hands and kissed his lips. "No, no, I need you to know that that's the last thing I want."

"Then come home." Gold urged, kissing her this time. "We can make things the way they were before all this. We can make them even better."

It was what he wanted most, for Belle to return with him. To make his house into a home again. The days without her had only been cold reminders of how lonely his life had become. Gold had missed her terribly. The simple intimacy of sharing breakfast with her in the morning, of having someone to look forward to seeing after his work was over.

Gold had long pictured having her in his bed, but the reality of sharing his home with Belle had overtaken his every wish.

True comfort over lusting fantasy.

Belle's hands lifted to his hair, carding through it again. Gold was sure he'd never tire of her touch. "I want to, I do. But...oh, how can I say this? I want us to take a step back."

"I don't understand."

The woman dropped her hands to fold over in her lap. "I need you to try. That night after I left you at the cabin, I came back here. I didn't want to be alone in your house. I thought about everything. About you and me, about us being together now. About Storybrooke and the lives we lead here. You and I...we've been involved since the night I started to stay in your house. After that night, we weren't just friends any longer. Nothing was so simple after that night."

Gold nodded, agreeing with her. He kept silent. Belle continued.

"It didn't matter what went on in your house after that night. Everyone believed the worst. Even my friends, and they only believed me after that day you came back with the baby and saw how things were between us with their own eyes. I could see that you regretted bringing me into your house right after it happened, but by the next day it was too late to reverse the damage. You know what the town thought of us - the rich man and the poor woman, suddenly living together."

Gold dipped his head. He was shamed by the truth, and yet, "I only regret that I cast a shadow on your reputation. Everything else that came of you staying with me, I don't regret any of it."

Belle gave him a soft smile. "I don't regret any of it either. New York wouldn't have happened if I had still just been the friend who popped in to see you at the shop. In a twisted way, we can thank my father for bringing us together."

"Never." Gold snapped. He'd die before he thanked _that man_ for anything.

Belle didn't argue. "What I'm trying to say is that, everything that's happened between us, it's been so much, so fast. Taking a step back from that could be the best thing for us."

Gold bit his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to be parted from her...but even Gold at his most possessive could see that Belle was right. What's more, this would make her happy. He took a deep breath, then lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss. "If it's what you want."

"What I want is for us to be together. It's what I've wanted for a long time." Belle leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Think of this as a fresh start, done the right way. I'm not refusing to stay with you ever again, but I have a few months left on my lease. When it ends and if we're still-"

"We will be."

"Then we can talk about me coming back. Until then," Belle lifted her purse from the floor and withdrew a key from the inner pocket. So like the key he'd had made for her, it was gold in color, engraved with his first initial. Dangling from it was the small keychain of a spoked wheel. "This is yours. You can come and go here as you please. My house is your house."

"I already have a house," Gold grumbled, unhappy. "And it will be lonelier without you, but...if you think we need this..."

She put her hand over his knee to drive her point home. "I do."

"Whatever you say, dear."

"Hey! I'm not a nagging housewife!" Belle protested.

Gold shrugged, "Housewife? No. Nagging, well..."

Belle swatted him with a sofa pillow. "You're lucky I like you so much, or else I'd slap you."

Gold caught the pillow and tossed it aside. "Careful, I might like that."

"You're so bad!"

"Only around you, Belle." He winked at her and then took a deep breath. "I'm going to go."

Belle sat up. "You don't have to leave. I meant what I said, this is your space too now. You can stay as long as you want."

"I want to stay. I do. But there are a few things I need to take care of today." He informed her. If she didn't want to come out with him to Sunshire and she wouldn't share the house with him, then he would take his leave of her for now. If he stayed with her much longer, he would never leave.

He needed to attend to other things. Things that Belle couldn't be a part of.

"All right. Can I come over later?"

Gold smiled at her. "Please do. Yes. You don't need to ask. It's your house too."

Belle stood when he did, and she embraced him. They stood together for a time, just holding each other. Gold rested his chin on the crown of her head.

They loved and were loved.

It was wonderful, but they were no island. Their lives called to them.

Gold redressed himself and took his leave from Belle and her little jewelbox of an apartment.

Stepping out of her building, he took a breath. The summer was waning, the breeze was crisp. Good. He liked the autumn. A few more weeks and it would be time to bring out his overcoat and gloves.

But for now, Mr. Gold had business to attend to and a very important visit to make.


	37. Open

Gold stepped into his house and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. He listened to the silence before calling out, "Belle? Are you here?" in a test of his own mind. He wanted to disprove the morning, that Belle hadn't left his home to return to her own, that she wasn't back in her apartment right now, and intending to stay there.

His woman did not call back to him.

Gold huffed and moved away from the door, feeling foolish. He was unhappy with Belle's decision but he couldn't force her to stay with him. The first time, she had forgiven his demand. He wouldn't be so fortunate a second time. He had to abide by her choice.

The man climbed the stairs and ventured into the room he'd given to Belle in her stay with him. Other than the night they'd fallen asleep together, this room had been where Belle slept. He took in a deep breath, scenting the woman. She had been gone a week but the space still carried traces of Belle's perfume. He looked over to the stained glass window, liking how the colors flared in the sunlight. He looked to the bed, still slightly rumpled from the last night Belle had spent here.

She said she would come back.

Recalling what Belle had said brightened his mood a bit. She had returned to her apartment, but that wasn't the same as leaving him. She didn't want to end things, she only wanted them to start afresh. Gold could live with that, though he could well admit it had been several years since he'd carried on such a relationship. Other than Jefferson and Regina, Gold had no friends to care for him. Before Belle, he had contented himself well enough with his occasional weekend encounters with Zelena.

For so long it had been a lonely life, full of work and few people.

He was glad that his life had changed in the last few months. He had Belle and, if young Jasmine was to be believed, then he had more friends now than he knew what to do with. More was needed, however. Talking to Belle and telling her the truth had been a great burden lifted from his shoulders. All the self-help books he'd bought over the years had advised talking out his troubles. With Bae and Milah gone, there had been no one to talk to for years; that in itself had been his main trouble.

Jefferson knew nothing of his past and Gold was content to keep it that way. Their friendship was uncomplicated.

Regina knew, but had he been in his right mind at the time, he never would have told her. She'd caught him at a bad moment, that was all.

Gold thought of Archie Hopper. He knew.

However, when they'd last met they had not parted on the best of terms.

Gold clenched his jaw, recalling it. Archie had barely been a doctor, then. The ink on his license hadn't even dried yet when he'd been assigned to assess Gold's emotional adjustment to his loss, just days after the fire. It had been twenty years, and Gold couldn't remember much from the young doctor's visit to his hospital room. He only recalled a great deal of shaking and crying.

Archie Hopper. Not him.

Gold glanced into the closet and saw that the stylish clothes he'd gifted to Belle were still inside. She had only taken the clothes she'd brought into his home with her when she'd left. A few makeup pieces and a tube of hair gel had been left on the counter. No matter, she could use those things when she came back. Gold didn't see himself using her mascara anytime soon.

He left her room and strode into the kitchen. He watered her orchid and made himself a sandwich, trying all the while to ignore how quiet and lifeless the house was without her. Well, no. The house wasn't lifeless. He was still here, even though Belle had gone and his family would never be here again. He needed to remember that. He was still here, and as long as he was alive, Bae could live on in his memory. That alone had been his reason to carry on after the fire.

_I'm still here._

Gold left the kitchen and went into the study. He opened his iPad and sent out several e-mails and a few notices to troublesome clients who were late on payment. He'd be damned if he let anyone in town think the uncovered truths of his personal life were going to change anything. If any of them thought to exploit such an angle, he'd come down harder than ever, evicting and repossessing at will.

_No. Nothing has changed. They'll learn that soon enough._

He looked up to the picture on his desk. It was the same picture that Belle had been looking at when he'd found her in the study, that awful, crazed day. During the week of Belle's absence, he had moved some of the things he'd kept in his study all these lonely years and placed them about his house. These memories didn't deserve to be hidden away like shameful secrets, they deserved to be shown in the home where so many of them had been made.

Milah's collection of bells had been placed on a wall shelf in the formal dining room that she'd loved so. He could only remember them eating once in this room, when Milah had insisted on cooking a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. She'd wanted to try her hand at a few American dishes, serving her husband and son greenbean casserole and sweet potato pie until they were happily comatose from the richness of the meal. Gold and the boy had slept off on the sofa while Milah had cleared the table, so full of hope for their new lives in this place, the adventure that Gold had promised her on their wedding.

Bae's boat he'd returned to the mantle. He thought it looked even better there now with the new paint and furnishings in the front room. Belle was better at decorating than she'd given herself credit for and Gold was grateful for it. God knew he had no patience for it.

A few of his favored pictures had been hung on the wall in the hallway and up the back staircase. The barren walls were given life again, captured visions of their family trips to the Scottish Highlands and to Sandwood Bay beach. He and Milah on horseback, one of their more interesting dates when he'd been trying to win Milah as his wife. A snap of him with a group of his mates from back home while they'd been on a trip to Germany, all of them raising beer steins to the camera.

Gold looked at the picture he held, remembering that day. How happy Bae had been to get that puppy. It'd been his birthday, the last birthday his son would ever have. Wee Jock had been his reward for a full year of top marks in school because _of course_ his son was sharp; Bae had been the one to negotiate the dog as his prize for good grades and Milah had laughed that Gold had been out-bargained by his own blood. The picture had been taken by a neighbor shortly after they'd come home from the animal shelter with the dog, Bae so happy and Milah trying to hide her worry that the pup would mess in the house.

_A good day. One of my favorite days._

The dog had been sent to stay with a neighbor while they had gone off to their weekend away, one of Bae's friends from school. After the fire and his release from the hospital, little Morraine had knocked on the door to return the puppy. She said she was sorry, that she knew what had happened. There had been a sympathy card signed by his teacher and all the children in his class waiting in the mailbox. Everyone knew.

That little girl had saved his life that afternoon, whether she knew it or not.

She'd returned the pup and so given Gold something to focus on other than his pain. He'd had something that was dependent on him for its care, something that could love him in his deepest days of self-hatred for his failure as a father and a man. The little white dog that had licked his tears and urged him to play, forcing his first smile months after the tragedy. A wonderful dog, and Bae had just loved her. When it was the dog's time, he'd engraved her name on a rock and set the rock at the base of Bae's gravestone. It was still there. It had been fitting, Gold thought, and sometimes imagined them together in the bright afterlife, playing an eternal game of fetch.

When his own time came, Gold hoped he'd be invited to play.

For now, though, to business.

He set the photograph aside and began to compose a message to their esteemed district attorney.

________________________________

Belle watched from her window as Gold drove away, his Cadillac turning out of view. She took a relieved deep breath. In dictating what she wanted in their new relationship, Belle knew she had been risking the very relationship itself. She'd been staying in his house for weeks, only there because he had outlined a deal - she would remain in his house, a willing captive, in exchange for his promise not to attack her father.

Belle had broken that deal with him by leaving, but at this point she didn't care what he did to her father. Moe French had earned his enemy.

In telling Gold what she wanted, she'd half-expected the man to lose his temper and drag her back to his house by her hair.

She smiled at the thought.

Gold had agreed - albeit unhappily - to her terms and taken his leave. A fresh start for them is what she wanted.

Belle wanted him to visit her apartment and for her to visit his house. She wanted them to visit each other after work on weekdays and for them to spend weekends together. There were still several months left on her lease, but in time she would live with Gold if he asked her, and why not? His house was grand, his yard well-kept and colorful. Of course, the house was nothing without his company, which Belle loved above all else. She would go with him, months from now, when they were on more stable footing, more comfortable with each other. Yes, she would go with him. After that...

The woman's mind wandered into the future, but that was dangerous territory and she knew it.

Belle twisted her hair into a long side braid and dressed for the day. She'd promised to meet Marcus for lunch at Granny's; not only was he an amazing mechanic, he was also very knowledgeable about buying cars and Belle had some questions for him. It'd be nice to tell him her good news, too. No more secrets. She and Gold would be open in their relationship now. They were going to be together, they were going to be happy. Belle wanted to tell everyone.

She texted Marcus, confirming their plans to meet, and set off on foot.

Belle reached the diner before Marcus, and Ruby was happy to seat her. The restaurant was slow for a Saturday so Ruby could keep her company for a minute without incurring the wrath of her grandmother who pursed her lips on seeing Belle. As far as the older woman was concerned, Belle had traded herself to enjoy the town monster's wealth. Belle would be happy to prove her - and all of Storybrooke - wrong about that.

"So, how did last night go?" Ruby asked.

Belle shrugged, feigning indifference. "Meh, it was all right I guess."

"You liar! Belle, your face is already as red as my apron, so don't bother trying to hide it."

Caught out, Belle broke into a wide smile. "It was...very nice."

Ruby eyed her and swatted her on the shoulder. "Sure, sure. Just 'very nice' is how you got those hickeys, right?"

"What?" Belle's hands flew to her throat, panicked. She carried no shame in loving Gold, but a neck covered in hickeys didn't look good on anyone.

"Relax, I was just teasing. You look fine. Oh, there's Marcus." Ruby cocked her head to the large window and Belle followed her eyes to see their friend jogging across the street to the diner door. He strode in and took a seat across from her.

"Hey, Belle. How are you?"

"I'm good. I actually wanted to pick your brain about cars."

Marcus put in his order with Ruby and smiled at her. "After all these years, you finally want to talk about cars? I may know a thing or two-"

"-or a thousand! Please, Marcus? You are the resident expert."

"I'm not there, yet. Keep stroking my ego. _Finesse me."_

"You're more than an expert, you are a mechanical genius! Everyone in town knows it, they come from miles around, from all over the country - hell, the world - just for an oil change because you are the god Hephaestus descended to us mere mortals!"

Marcus took in a long drag of air, breathing in her worship. "Ah. Finally, someone has given me the praise I deserve! All right, ask me anything."

Belle eagerly told him of the goal she'd been harboring since the new year: she wanted a car. Nothing flashy. She couldn't afford that, and had no need of all the bells and whistles anyway. What she needed was practical. A car that was reliable, suitable for her errands. So long as the vehicle wouldn't be in and out of the auto shop, and costing her hundreds of dollars with each trip, Belle would be happy.

Marcus's true love might be Shane, but his first love was cars. He asked Belle every question he could think of, and she told him how much money she'd managed to squirrel away for herself - money she'd kept away from her father, money she'd been saving for months before she and Gold had become what they were to each other now.

It wasn't much, but it might be enough to work with.

Marcus clicked his tongue, "Well, you have enough cash saved up for a good down payment for a pre-owned car, but your nest egg won't be enough to buy a car outright. Not a decent one, anyway. I won't let you get struck driving a lemon. Let me shop around for you and I'll e-mail you what I find."

"You are the best, you should offer this as a service in your shop." She suggested.

"I'll keep that in mind." He said as their food arrived.

"How's business?"

Marcus tapped the sides of his coffee cup in a short rhythm. "Still rolling steady. I've made enough to where I can start looking for another Mustang."

"Another one? What are you going to do with the first? You can't sell it, I saw the love that you put into restoring it."

"Oh, I'm keeping her. It's just that she looks lonely, all by herself in the garage. Mustang Sally needs a friend. I want to build a fleet of Mustangs. Or a herd, rather. One in every color." Marcus said, picturing an airplane hangar housing all his cars. It was a dream worth chasing.

Belle took a bite of her sandwich. "If you plan on having that many then I'll just rent one from you, then."

"You know you can borrow the car for errands or whatever you need to do around town, if that's all you need it for."

"Thank you, I do appreciate that. But I can't borrow your car forever."

"I get it. Again, I'll look for something reliable in your price range. Until then, keep saving your pennies. Or ask your rich boyfriend for help."

She shook her head at his suggestion. "You know I'm never going to do that. Bad enough the town already thinks that's all our connection is, and nothing will convince them of the truth."

Marcus ate a few onion rings, nodding along. "And what is the truth there? When you first started staying with him, Shane and I paid a visit to the shop and he let us know what was up. But your birthday weekend away, that's when things picked up between you, right?"

Belle thought back to New York. The champagne. The look in his eyes after she'd kissed him. The way he'd held her.

"Yes. We cared for each other before then but New York is when things became...undeniable."

Marcus slapped the table, a broad smile unfolding on his face. " _Undeniable_ , I like that! So, it's you and Mr. Gold, sittin' in a tree?"

Belle nodded, looking down at her golden nails. They still gleamed in the light. "I love him. He loves me."

"He'd be an idiot not to, and Mr. Gold is no idiot. He's the smartest guy I know."

"He's smart, he's funny and he's very sweet. To me, anyway. No one will believe me when I say that...and I shouldn't be telling you any of this, he wouldn't like it." Belle murmured. She knew he didn't concern himself with the town's gossip but she doubted he'd want her to divulge their private life.

Marcus snorted a laugh, "He wants to keep his cuddly and kinky sides top secret, huh?"

"I don't think he's kinky." _But I aim to find out,_ Belle thought to herself with a smile.

"Oh, so he's boring then." Marcus teased. "He's vanilla spread over a slice of plain white bread. Good. The invitation is still open, you come to me and Shane when you're ready for excitement."

Belle rolled her eyes at him. Marcus had been on about bringing her into his and Shane's bed for over a year. A tasteless joke shared in their circle, but it was _their_ joke.

"No. He is _anything_ but boring, Marcus." Belle told him, in the mood to defend her man and declare his prowess. "He's nothing like anyone would think, if anyone even thinks of him in that way but me, that is."

"Yeah, I think you're safe there. Time was, I once wondered about him." He confided. "You know, guy his age, never married as far as anyone knew, dealing in art and antiques. At a glance, he fits the stereotype."

"He's for women, I can attest to that."

"I believe you. And I'm happy for you, Belle. If anyone deserves a good man..."

"He is good. He's so good to me, maybe too good. He's always giving me gifts. When we're alone, he can be sweet. He makes me laugh, if you can believe that. He's so smart and clever. He's wonderful. He's caring and so...oh, God, I can't talk about him like this." Belle stopped herself and looked about them as if she expected to find eavesdroppers all about their table.

Marcus followed her eyes around the diner but no one was paying them any attention. "Why not? Shane and I tell you everything."

Belle scoffed at him, "Shane only tells me a little, and you tell me way too much. He and I...we separated this past week and only just reconnected last night. It's a delicate time. I told him I wanted to stay in my apartment rather than go on living with him."

"You're moving out right when things got interesting between you two? How'd he take that?" Marcus asked, leaning in.

"He wasn't thrilled, but he wasn't mad about it, either. I explained that I wanted to start fresh, do this the right way. He agreed, but I know he'd rather have me back at his house."

"Well, of course he'd want you back there. I'm sure he's a more traditional guy, the type who would want to keep tabs."

Belle raised a brow at that, "What do you mean?"

"I mean he'd want to know where you are, you know, keep an eye on you. Not in a jealous way, but more in a concerned kind of way." Marcus's expression grew earnest. "We know he had a family, Belle. We know he had a son, and he's gone. Shane and I found out, you know how gossip gets around. What happened to them, to him...God, I don't know what I'd do if it was me." Marcus went quiet for a moment, then went on, "What I'm trying to say is, he was married, right?

Belle nodded, thinking of his wife, Milah. "Yes. Married. They had a son. He told me what happened last night. I want to know more about them, I want to know everything. Bit his past is so delicate. I can see how much it hurts him to talk about them. I don't want him to feel pressured."

"I understand. His family, that's nothing simple to talk about." Marcus took a sip, thinking. "He'll tell you more about them when he's ready."

"I know he will, and I'm so relieved he's starting to trust me with his past."

"What's he told you about his married life?" He asked, truly curious here. Mr. Gold's personal life had never occurred to him before, but since Belle was involved now he felt protective enough to weigh in on a few things.

"Not much. Before, he accidentally let it slip he'd had a wife and then he asked me not to ask him about her. At the time, I didn't know whether to think he was a widower or if he'd been divorced. I respected what he asked of me, so I never asked about her. Even when I found pictures in his house, I never asked about his wife."

Marcus nodded. "I can understand that. None of this will be easy for him to tell you, and given what happened it's only natural that he'd have a hard time telling you about it. The point I was trying to make was that he's been married before, Mr. Gold has had that experience. Having you stay with him, he got used to having that woman's touch while you were there, playing house."

"We weren't sleeping together. It was more like we were just roommates."

"I've heard straight marriage is like that."

At that, Belle burst out laughing, drawing looks from a few of the other diner patrons. She balled up a napkin and threw it at him.

"You're the worst!"

Marcus, the shameless cat, spread his arms and owned it. "That I am, but you love me."

Before Belle could replay, a new presence had come to stand at the edge of their table. Rachel Carter, queen of the PTA and a goddess among Storybrooke's gossips. Being on her radar already, Rachel had been one of the first to notice Belle coming and going from Mr. Gold's house and it was due to her talent for dropping subtle comments here and there that half the town learned of Belle's new living arrangement.

Belle knew this, Marcus knew this.

Even now, Rachel stood over them, looking down her nose at Belle. "Miss French, word is you've gone back to your building."

Caught off-guard, Belle fumbled. "I, uh, yes I have. I've been back there this past week, since the construction has wrapped up."

"It's good that you're not keeping house with that man any more. People had been talking, and you were no role model to the children while carrying on like that."

Anger spiked through Belle at the woman's cheek. Just who the hell was she to judge her connection to Gold?

" _'That man'._ I'll have you know I'm seeing that man. Personally and even romantically, when the mood strikes." Here Belle put on her best overly sexual expression. Marcus stifled a laugh.

Rachel scrunched her nose, disgusted by this display. "So after a weeks of living with him, seeing for yourself what he's capable of, you finally admit it?"

"I'm not just admitting it, I'm damn proud."

"Raised like you were, it's no surprise you took up with him. The only thing that surprises me is that it took so long for you to find your way into a rich man's bed." Rachel snapped.

"Hey, that's enough!" Marcus stood from the table and stuck his finger right in Rachel's face. "Look, whatever beef you've got with Gold, Belle has no part in it. That goes for you, that goes for everyone."

Rachel didn't appreciate his flash of temper, but she had the good sense to stay quiet. She gave them both a haughty look and left the diner. By that evening, the story would be that Belle was entertaining both Mr. Gold while also carrying on with Marcus, Shane being none the wiser of his lover's bisexual affair with the town librarian.

Storybrooke in a nutshell.

Belle smiled at him, "You didn't need to stick up for me like that."

"Yes I did. Gold's not here to do it, so I will." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "And I will, Belle. Every time."

"You're a great friend."

He only shrugged. "I don't think of you as just a friend anymore. You, me, Shane, Ruby, all of us here. We're a family. You know that."

"I do. Still, though. Thank you."

"Hey, no thanks are needed between us. Besides, someone needed to tell her off. Her and anyone who thinks they can talk to you like that when they really have a problem with Gold but are too chicken to come to him about it. You know he's helped me out in the past and I liked him for that. I liked him when he came to visit Shane and I, and he told us he cared for you. Now I know how happy you are because of him, so I like him even more."

"I am happy." Belle told him, and there was no hesitation or doubt in her words.

Leaving Granny's, an idea struck Belle. An idea so defiant and out of character for her that it was just too perfect to ignore.

_I have to do this._

She took out her new cell and called him.

"Hey, Belle." He greeted on answering. She wondered what if he had a picture of her on his caller I.D. If not, they'd take pictures of each other that night.

"Where are you?"

"The police station."

"What! What did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing. Well, nothing that can be traced back to me, if that's what worries you." He chuckled on the other end of the line, pleased with himself. "The sheriff called, I only came in to recover the last of my property."

Belle took a breath, relieved it was just his sense of humor coming out to play. "Please don't joke like that."

"Who's joking?"

Belle wondered what he was up to. _Tricky man._ "Listen, I know I said I wanted to meet up tonight but can you meet now?"

"Yes. Where?"

Belle looked about herself. "I'm just coming up on the square. Will you meet me here?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Belle thanked him and ended the call. She lengthened her stride, pushing herself forward until she made it. Storybrooke moved all around her, traffic in the streets and her people bustling about on foot. The town was a sleepy place, uncrowded and unconcerned throughout the week. Saturdays were when most of the people got their errands done - their grocery shopping, their car maintenance, their day trips to Sunshire and of course, they caught up on their gossip. Belle was counting on it.

_I'm sick of hiding and pretending and side-stepping the truth. We're going to end all that today. Our fresh start._

Belle broke her thoughts when she saw the man as he rounded a corner and approached the square. She smiled to see him. It was a small thing, but he had come here simply because she'd asked it of him. It was small, but it proved he cared enough to come when she called. Belle stood, waiting for him.

Gold neared her, likewise smiling but his eyes held a measure of worry. "Is everything all right? I didn't want to say anything but you sounded upset on the phone."

Belle lightly cleared her throat. "I, uh, was upset, but not with you."

Gold reached to her, stroking her upper arms, "What happened?"

There was a quick, unspoken conversation that was held in their eyes.

_Tell me what's bothering you - I'll do anything to help._

_I know you will, but I'm all right._

_If you're sure...?_

_Yes, I'm sure._

The woman shook her head. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Just do one thing for me."

"What do you need?"

"Just this."

Belle leaned in close and kissed him, right there in full view of any and everyone who could see them. She smiled against his lips when she felt his hand lift to touch her waist. It was a soft kiss, but one that held promise. They parted, and Gold raised a brow as he took a step back. He glanced around them, to the others in the town who had seen the kiss. He didn't care what the people here thought of him, though some things he preferred to keep private. It was too late to take it back now, however.

"You never struck me as an exhibitionist." He chided.

"I'm not. I just wanted to send a message of my own."

"What message?"

"That I'm with you and I don't care who knows it."

"Ah. A point well taken, Belle the Brave." Gold said, tickling her waist.

Belle squealed and dodged away from his playful hands. "Stop! It you don't stop doing that, I'll do it to you right out here where everyone can see."

Gold immediately shifted into his more intimidating persona, squaring his shoulders and planting his hands on the cane before him. Belle wasn't sure why he bothered when he knew she could see past this beastly mask of his. "Miss French, you will do no such thing."

Belle raised a brow, openly mocking him now. "Are you sure about that?"

"I will tolerate no assault on my person in public."

"In public." Belle repeated carefully. "And what about in private?"

Gold clenched his jaw. "In private we can open negotiations."

"I haven't much experience in business, sir. I worry I might be...taken advantage of." Belle widened her eyes and batted her lashes, playing the naive, innocent thing he once took her for.

It was all a game between them, this give and take. Her pretended weakness against his stony indifference.

"That is a distinct possibility, Miss French. I have earned my reputation."

Gold broke character here, and a sly smile began to creep across his face. Belle liked his more relaxed, playful smiles best, but his more cunning and sly smiles had their charm as well. These smiles always held a hint of promise for her and Belle's blood heated at the sight of it.

"I'm sure you have, Mr. Gold. Please, can't you take pity on me, just this once?"

"No."

"There's nothing I can say to convince you to go easy on me?" She pleaded.

"Not a thing, Miss French."

"You're heartless!"

"Yes."

"You have a rotten soul!"

"So I've been told."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Belle demanded, grasping lightly at his lapels. "Having me so helpless, so completely at your mercy."

Gold took one of her hands and lifted it from his jacket, up to his lips for a soft, quick kiss. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

A note of pretended fear slipped into Belle's voice. She knew Gold liked that. "And I expect you'll want to collect your due, won't you, Mr. Gold?"

"The sooner the better. I always take what's mine."

He tried advancing on her, but Belle held her ground.

"I won't give you a thing."

"We'll see about that. When I set my mind on something, I never give up." Gold boasted, all self-satisfaction born from long experience.

"Oh, aye?" She challenged him.

"Oh, aye."

Belle dropped her fearful doe eyes and matched his sly smile with one of her own. "I'm looking forward to that."


	38. Time

Time began to pass as it did in Storybrooke, with Belle and Gold finding themselves with each other. Given time, they fell into step. No set routine, per se, however they found rhythm. The days they filled with work in the library and the shop or about town. After, they would pay visits to each other in just the way Belle had envisioned.

After their first weekend, Gold had waited until the following Wednesday to visit Belle's apartment after she'd finished at the library. A few days apart for them to regain themselves, to catch up on work, and then he'd made the move to see her. A casual evening was called for, he thought. He had tired of speaking of his heavy past; Belle deserved better than for him to drown her in his secreted misery.

This was to be their fresh start together and though he absolutely _loathed_ the adolescent label, Gold was determined to be a good boyfriend (just the word made him cringe - he hadn't been a boy in decades) to Belle. She was everything to him now. He couldn't ask for more from her, and so chose to keep his other secrets to himself. This was their fresh start, let them be light and playful together, the way they should have been from the very beginning.

So, Wednesday night. A casual night in.

Belle had opened her door, barefoot and content, to find Gold offering take-out from Granny's. "My hero." She'd said as she waved him inside. They ate and drank. They spoke of their days apart. They played checkers, then continued her lesson in chess. After the games, they cuddled, then kissed.

Gold went home that night, alone. He and Belle had only shared dinner, and that was all right. He wasn't so crass that he would expect sex every time he met with the woman.

_Though I certainly wouldn't complain if that were the case._

On Friday, Belle went out with her friends. Gold trusted her to go out dancing on her own, a single woman to the eyes of those who knew no better. He knew Belle wasn't the type to overindulge and go home with a stranger; he knew Belle's friends worked together in a tightknit circle to keep each other in line.

No, Gold didn't begrudge Belle any time out with her friends. He did regret that he couldn't dance with her, and that he stood out too much in a place like the Rabbit Hole to ever be comfortable.

Belle came to him late Saturday afternoon, refreshed from sleeping in after her night out. Rather than Granny's, she brought groceries and made him a baked chicken while he prepped salad and a few sides. They spent a lazy day at the house. An early dinner, then drinks out on the back deck. A light vodka cranberry for Belle, whiskey on the rocks for Gold. Another bad movie on Netflix.

Belle chose to stay over with him that night, simply sleeping by his side. Gold liked how she looked wearing his t-shirt and he liked sleeping next to Belle. He slept better with her.

Belle was unused to sleeping beside a man, but if asked, she would agree with Gold. She slept better when she was with him. There was no shame in that, and no reason to hide from it. She smiled as she felt him snuggle in closer to her back. Opening her eyes, Belle saw that it was early morning. Sunday. The light was just starting to come in through the window.

She smiled when she felt his hand palming her breast. Somehow, the sly devil had found his way under her shirt.

_Why am I not surprised?_

They hadn't coupled since the previous weekend. It was only a matter of time until one of them broke before the other. For all his stoicism, Gold was only a man in the end. Belle was his living weakness, the only one alive who could rouse him. It was a dangerous thing to be a man's hope for a new life, but he was her hope too.

Belle rolled over, turning to face him and pushing him back so that she could lie atop him.

She didn't do anything, not yet. Belle only rested her chin on her hands, which she'd folded on his chest. They looked at each other. Gold's hands smoothed up her thighs, coming to rest on her haunches. He squeezed her lightly, one finger hooking into the low lace waistband of her panties. He wasn't disappointed that she hadn't gone naked under his borrowed shirt. He loved undressing her.

Belle blinked and moved her hand, reaching to trace his face. The frown lines between his brows were smooth now, he wasn't scowling. The lines that bracketed his mouth were not deep. The man was relaxed, content. Loved and loving and trusting her with so much. She reared forward to kiss his forehead, cradling his face in both her hands.

Belle gave a loud shriek of laughter when Gold moved beneath her, flipping her onto her back. He pinned her to the bed with his weight, looking down at her just as she had to him. She smiled at him, knowing what would come next. He touched her face. A woman fully grown, only two weeks past her thirtieth birthday, now. Her face was smooth. Her eyes only crinkled when she smiled, which made her more approachable, he thought. Under the auburn cast, her hair was naturally dark. His hair had never been as dark as hers, but his had been brown before it'd been mostly overtaken by the gray.

She had once told him she thought his gray hair was distinguished. Gold didn't know about that. He only accepted the changes as they came over him with time. Before Belle, he'd resigned himself to trudge on until his days ended and he saw his family on the other side. Now, he had her in his life. His friend, his lover. She was the light.

"You brought me back to life, Belle."

The words were out before Gold could stop himself.

Blue eyes widened at the words but she said nothing. Belle only kissed him, and from there began the long slow loving of a Sunday morning.

______________________________

Another week passed, and Gold relented to Belle's coaxing him back to the cabin. Autumn had come over the woods, they had left their formal suits and wrap dresses behind for sweaters and boots. They arrived in the day, with Belle capering about like a puppy in the leaves and taking in the view. They could see out over all of Storybrooke from here.

"This is beautiful! I didn't see any of this last time!"

Gold clenched his jaw at that. Belle had been pleased to offer herself to him that night, and claimed to have enjoyed his darker side in bed but he couldn't see things that way. He had used her and then dismissed her and nothing Belle said to reassure him could change how he felt about that night.

_I was horrible to you. Never again._

He shook off the cloud of melancholy for her. Belle was smiling wide as she crunched through a colorful piles of leaves. The faux Ugg boots she wore only served to enhance her childish glee. He smiled back at her, determined to make new, happy memories here.

"There's a small lake less than a mile through the woods. We can go there first thing tomorrow." He promised. "We may not hook anything but with luck we might see a doe."

"I'll bring my camera." Belle said as she followed him inside.

He'd cleaned the cabin since their last visit. Changed the linens on the bed, disposed of the old landscape art he'd smashed. He hadn't wanted anything to remain of the first night they'd spent here.

In keeping with their adventure into the woods, Gold cooked a simple meal in the back of the cabin, over a small campfire lined with rocks. Belle was very impressed with his skill as an outdoorsman and told him of her plans to brag to all her friends. Gold, ever a proud man, had always been pleased to show off to her. He would show her everything. The trails, how to make a rabbit snare, they would go fishing, they would-

"Did you ever have Bae here?"

The question startled him. Belle hadn't asked after his family since he'd told her of the fire. His knee-jerk reaction was to refuse an answer, but she was looking at him with such interest, such caring. He couldn't refuse her. "No. He never got to see the cabin. I bought it after. I needed a place to come where I could remember. And forget."

It was as honest an answer as Belle could expect.

"It's a boy's paradise out here. I'm sure he would have loved it."

"He would have. A part of me, I think I bought it for him. In the neighborhood he was always up a tree, my little monkey. If he'd ever seen this place he'd have run off to live with the animals. Baelfire the jungle boy." Gold mused. The wind blew over them, rustling in the trees.

His voice was quieter, now. It had grown darker but there was enough light from the fire for Belle to see him. His expression was distant, he was far off in memory.

"Tell me more. Tell me anything."

"Milah was a wonderful mother and she...she took a lot of care to keep our boy looking right. We weren't in for fine clothes back then, not when he would just outgrow them. But everything he did wear, it was never wrinkled. His hair was always combed down for class and his face was always clean. Bae hated it." Here Gold gave a deep chuckle. "Milah would lay everything out for him to wear to school, Bae would put it on and be her presentable little man for all of two minutes before he ran outside and found some trouble."

"Trouble?"

"A puddle to jump in or some rock to climb on. One morning before school, he'd got it into his head to dig for worms on picture day. We turned our backs on him for ten minutes and in that time he'd managed to get mud all over his new white shirt and pull up a handful of worms he wanted to feed to the dog." Gold blinked out of his memory, refocusing on Belle. He had a smile on his face. "That wee one, he once climbed the tallest tree he could find. Scared us both to death. Once we got him down Milah gave that boy the spanking of his life. I took him up to his room and found out why he'd done it."

Belle leaned forward. "Why did he climb the tree?"

"A neighborhood girl had dared some of the boys to do it. Bae had been the only one to try. My son was a ladies man at eight years old."

They shared a laugh at that, both of them with tears in their eyes.

______________________________

One night, a Friday, Belle made her way across Storybrooke to visit Gold. They had only seen each other once that week, but now they had the whole weekend together. He was expecting her, and Belle was looking forward to being with him. She'd found herself daydreaming of his bed, both at work and while with friends. Snow and Ariel were merciless in their teasing. The woman used her key to slip into the house, calling his name.

"I'm in the kitchen." He called back to her.

Belle found him there, working over the stove. Her stomach rumbled. He was hard at work on another of his Scottish stews. A lobster bisque, similar to Partan Bree. Hearty and hot, to combat the strong winds of the fall.

"That smells amazing!"

Gold quirked a smile at her, cocky. "Of course it does. I made it."

"Modest as ever." Belle teased as she approached him for a kiss. They kissed and held each other. Gold nuzzled into her neck, breathing her in.

"Sit down, Belle. I'll serve you."

The woman unwound the scarf from her neck and moved to the table, but she stopped short on seeing what was lying atop it. Just there, beside her orchid, was a leather photo album. This one was green, not red. "Is this was I think it is?"

Gold came to the table and set down a bowl of stew for her, with a plate of bread and cheese. "It is. Or, it's a copy."

"You made a copy of the whole album?"

"I've made several copies over the years. This is just one."

They stood, side by side, looking at it. "What happened to the red one, the original?"

"It's in a safe place. The pictures are all the same here. I wanted to show you."

"Why?"

He took her hand, both of them staring down at the album. "Because I love you. And you deserve to know."

"No, I meant, why now? It's been over a month since my father broke into your shop."

Yes, it'd been over a month since French had been arrested and sentenced for his crimes. And a month since Gold had pulled a favor to gain time alone with the man. Gold thought back to that day.

He'd been seated at a plain metal table in one of the interrogation rooms as French was brought in, shackled at the ankles and wrists and wearing an orange jumpsuit. The man was unkempt, defeated, as officers guided him to sit down across from Gold. French was quiet until they were alone.

"Why are you here, Gold?"

His voice was hoarse.

"I came for the rest of my things. The three pages from my photo album and the other RC car. Where are they?"

"You came down here for some pictures and a toy?"

"I came down here to get my things back. And to talk to you about your future with Belle. You won't have one if you go on like this."

A defiant spark flashed in Moe's eyes. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I mean that as it stands, Belle wants nothing to do with you. It hurts her to feel like this, even worse than your insults did and even worse than the humiliation of being connected with you does."

The other man said nothing.

"I don't know everything, but I know enough to form a picture. Stop me if I get it wrong. You and your wife were never very happy. Not in Australia, and moving here didn't change that. Even having Belle couldn't change that. I'm sure you both tried, in your way. You got a house, built a little business together. But it wasn't enough, was it?"

"Nothing was ever enough for that woman." Moe scowled.

"With time, things only grew worse. You turned to dark habits as she turned to other men. The both of you ignored Belle. Your wife left but you, you stayed. You hoped she'd come back. Belle never felt like she could leave and you took advantage of that. You chained her to this place by using her guilt and keeping her poor."

Again, Moe was silent. He knew everything Gold said was true. When he was free, or high, or drunk, it'd been easy to be shameless in the way he'd treated Belle.

Here, stone-cold sober and facing his crimes against Storybrooke and his daughter, he couldn't hide from the truth.

"You're not getting out of trouble this time. You know that." Gold told him. "If it had just been my things you took, Belle might have convinced me not to press charges but she knows you deserve to be here." Gold's eyes turned hard. "I don't forgive you. I won't. The others that you stole from, they're pressing charges right along with me. You will not escape this."

"What do you want, Gold?"

"I want you to know that what I plan to do now, I'm only doing it for her. I couldn't care less if you were to drop dead right now, in actual fact I hope you die in prison before your sentence is up." Gold hissed. "But as we bastards tend to outstay our welcome in the world, I know you'll survive the years inside so I'm having you placed into programs. Rehab. Vocational training."

"Why?"

"Because Belle deserves better than what you are now. A part of her hates herself for it, but she doesn't want to see you yet. Not after everything that's happened. You humiliated her that day on the street. And for years before that. You never cared for her the way a father should. Maybe it makes her too soft, maybe it even makes her stupid, but I know her and I know that in time, she will want to see you again. She'll want to try making amends. That's just who she is. She's better than us."

Gold took a deep breath.

"When she does see you, and we both know she will, you will not be... _this_ , what you've been all these years. You'll take the time inside to think on everything you've done to her. You'll go through the programs. You'll learn a skill. When you're released, you'll find a job and be respectable. You'll become a better man and start over with her. You'll be the father she deserves."

Gold stood up. His orders were clear.

"What if I don't?" French asked. "What if I can't?"

"You will. For Belle. Because if you don't, I'll have you stabbed in your sleep."

Gold made to leave, but French stopped him. "Gold. Some of the things I took I stashed in an empty warehouse by the docks. Get one of the officers to check it out. Your things might be there."

Gold did not thank him for that, but he did pass on the information to an officer. Thirty minutes later, Gold's most prized possessions were returned to him. Shortly after, Belle had called him to meet her in the town square, where she kissed him in the bright afternoon sun.

Gold blinked the memory away, and answered Belle's question. "If you'll let me, I'll share more with you. When we talked about Bae at the cabin I felt...lighter."

"I'm glad I can help."

Gold kissed the top of her head. "Sit down and eat. If you want, you can look through the album and I'll tell you about what went on in the pictures."

Belle did as he asked and settled at the table as Gold served himself a bowl of bisque and joined her. He began to eat as Belle paged through the album. He guarded the photographs of his past as more precious than his own life; he had studied each and every one, tattooing them to his memory. Just by counting how many pages she turned, Gold knew which pictures she was seeing.

"This one. Tell me about this one."

Gold looked up from his food to see the one she'd chosen. _Ah. The Highlands._

The photograph showed the young family in the green hills of Scotland. All of them dressed in jeans and boots for hiking.

"This was taken in Scotland. Milah's brother, Joseph, he kept horses. We liked to visit, he was always good for a laugh. After Bae came, we made a point of splitting time between here and home. Well, here is home for me now." He looked at Belle pointedly, and she smiled. He went on, "He's six, here. Milah's brother took this picture after we'd all just come back from the hills, another of our adventures. Joseph and I, we showed the boy how to fish in a stream. Milah and Joseph took him on a horseride. The wife and I took him for drives into town."

"And what town is this?" She reached across the table to touch his hand.

"Lochdubh. It's a small town. Joseph had never been much of one for city life. Told us he drove through it once and fell in love. He still lives there. He's older than us. He'd already been living there awhile when Milah and I were just starting out."

Belle looked up from the picture. "And how did he feel about you chasing his baby sister?"

The thought of Gold as a younger man trying to sneak his way around Milah's brother was very amusing.

"We all got on." Gold shrugged, his eyes on the photo. "Milah and I were friends before we were anything else. Joseph was a brother to me too."

"You haven't said much about her." Belle said, and that much was true. Gold was more open in his sorrow for losing his son than he was for his wife. She hoped he wasn't shying away from talking about Milah because he worried it would upset Belle. She wasn't so petty that she would flash jealousy over his lost love. She wanted him to know that he could tell her anything.

Gold shook his head. "There isn't much I care to share about Milah. She was a part of me, but that all went away after the fire."

Belle understood that, in a way. He had lost his whole world in one night, and the years that had dragged on after it had been largely empty for him. It was only now, with her, that Gold was working to live again. He was content with living apart for now, but he wanted her to come back to him once her lease ended. He wanted to travel with her. He wanted a new start, another chance at the happiness denied him.

Gold told her all of this and Belle took in every word.

They were making their new start, together.

_______________________________

There comes a time in every couple's relationship that they learned each other's habits, in bed and out. After they finished, Gold preferred to hold Belle against him; either to his chest when he laid on his back or he would come up behind her, spooning. Whether their loving was rough or gentle, he always held her after. Belle felt secure in his arms, and Gold needed to reassure himself that she was there with him. Keeping tabs, as Marcus had called it.

Out of bed, Belle liked caring for her man. She liked to cook and bake for him, to read to him as his head rested in her lap while she carded her fingers through his hair. Sometimes she would run a surprise errand for him, saving him a trip to the dry cleaners or car wash. Caring for another gave Belle a sense of purpose. Gold appreciated her every gesture, but he'd fought her on one.

He had come to her apartment on a Friday evening in November. The days had been dark, cloudy. A winter storm was simmering above their heads, just waiting for its time. His leg had been bothering him all week, the pain far worse than what was usual for this time of the year; the pain was so great that it had kept him confined to the house and his shop. He had sent Dove out to collect the rent while he'd barely been able to move from his stool behind the pawn shop counter.

Rather than confide in Belle about his situation, Gold had put her off for days. It was the wrong thing to do, he knew, but he hated to bring more attention to his shortcomings. Being able to manage on his own two feet had grown beyond him this week. By the end of the business day, everything in Gold had been screaming to get back to the house for his painkillers. He refused to go home. He'd neglected to visit Belle all week. His body needed the rest but his heart needed her.

So, Gold had done what he believed any man of worth would do: he ignored his pain and went to find his woman.

He fetched her favorite from Granny's and, seeing that Belle's elevator was down for some maintenance, dragged himself up the stairs of her apartment building. By the time he'd reached Belle's floor, Gold both congratulated himself for making it and cursed himself for his own stupidity.

_I never called to make sure she was home!_

The very real realization that Belle might have gone out with her friends was a slap in the face. Well. Her gifting him with a key was a lucky thing. If she wasn't home he could just go inside and wait for her to return if that was the case.

Gold pulled himself down the hallway and knocked on her door, exhaustion weighing him down. He might drop right there on her doorstep.

Belle answered the door, took one look at him and drew him inside. She set the food, his peace offering for his remiss behavior all week, aside and guided him to sit on the sofa. Belle moved about quickly, asking him questions about his pain.

When had it started? How bad was it on a scale of 1 to 10? Was this the reason he'd been avoiding her all week?

_Days ago, when the weather turned._

_It's usually at a 2. It's been a 6 or 7 all this week. Now it's a hard 13._

_Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't want this to spoil our time together._

Belle had shaken her head at his last answer. "Men. You all cause more trouble for yourselves than you need to, do you know that?"

"I have been told that before." Gold grunted as he shifted his position on the sofa. His leg was a mass of pain; if the elevator had been available it wouldn't be hurting him half as much, but he'd been determined to see Belle, determined not to let his injury hold him back.

 _Not my best decision_. Gold conceded as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning. The smarter choice would have been to call Belle to come to him at the shop, and he could have driven her home with him. This whole scene could have been avoided if not for his damn pride.

"If you were hurting this bad, why didn't you just go home?"

"We haven't seen each other all week. I didn't want you to think I was ignoring you."

"I wouldn't have felt like that if you'd just told me what the problem was." Belle stroked his hair, trying to comfort him. "You know me. I would've understood. I would've helped."

Gold shook his head, trying to will his pain away. Usually he could ignore it, even on the bad days, but this was different. This was the stress of three flights of stairs on top of a week of especially bad days. His will wouldn't be enough.

"I don't want you to help. I just want it to stop." He ground out.

Belle huffed and left the sofa for her medicine cabinet. She didn't have much in there outside of band-aids, birth control or cough syrup, but she did have half a bottle of heavy dose painkillers leftover from when she'd sprained her wrist a few years in the past. She took the pills and returned to the sofa, handing him the bottle. "Here, I was prescribed these for my wrist but they were way too strong, put me right out. Take two and then you're staying here tonight."

She would hear no argument from him on that and for once Gold wasn't in the mood to banter, bargain or deal. Yes, he would stay over Belle's. His mind was already on her bed, he liked her pillows better than his. Her room smelled like vanilla and cinnamon thanks to her love of candles. He would sack out in her bed for the whole weekend - maybe his leg would be back to normal by Monday. He looked at the medicine Belle had brought him and scowled.

_Damn it. I knew tonight wouldn't be that easy._

"No. I can't take these."

Belle raised a brow and took the bottle back, "Are you allergic?"

"In a way."

"What do you mean?"

"I have...Belle, after I was released from the hospital there were dark days for me. Very dark. I needed painkillers for my leg and the burns, but after a time I started to _need_ the painkillers."

Sharp as she was, Belle knew what he was trying to tell her. Another of his miserable secrets. "You became addicted."

It was another dark chapter of his past, one he was loathe to discuss but he had to make Belle understand his aversion to certain medications. He had overcome that weakness in himself and had been very cautious with his medications in the years following.

"Yes." He said quietly. "It sort of...surprised me. The pain was constant and only dulled by the prescribed dosage. It wasn't long before I found myself doubling, then tripling once I was finally numb. Before I knew it, I was out of my prescription and desperate for more. I lied to my doctor and the pharmacist to get refills. It took someone from the outside to force me to realize what I was doing."

Belle stroked his hand. "What happened?"

"I stopped. I cut myself off. For months I dealt with the pain, raw. I'm still dealing with it. Every day. I'm afraid to take anything too strong, in case it happens again. I can't let that happen. Now, I only take something if I know I'll be doing much walking or dealing with important clients. That's why I took it in New York. Usually I can manage without."

"What can I do?" Belle asked. Her concern never ceased to amaze him. She wasn't repulsed by his addiction, seeing the worst of her father in him. All she showed was her care. All she wanted was to help.

"Nothing. It's something I've learned to live with."

"You live in constant pain. No wonder you're always in a mood."

"Excuse me?" Gold snapped.

Belle didn't blink, "My point exactly. I knew your leg bothered you sometimes but I didn't know you've been in pain all this time. You shouldn't have to live like this, there has to be something that can be done."

"There isn't much choice. I've had several surgeries since it first happened." Gold shook his head, "The limp can't be helped."

"I didn't mean that." Belle said. She had never cared about his limp, not before and not after he'd told her how he'd received the injury. She was alarmed to learn that every day they'd spent together, both as friends and lovers, Gold's leg had been causing him some measure of pain. This was no way to live. It was a wonder that he could find any pleasure in life at all.

"It's either drift through in a drugged haze or deal with the pain." Gold shrugged, "I think of it as my cross to bear."

"Well, you're with me now. You don't have to bear it alone. Let me help."

Belle moved to kneel down on the floor before him and brought his calf to her lap, where she tried to draw up the leg of his trousers and see to his old injury. Once he realized what she meant to do, Gold drew back from her. "Belle, please don't."

The woman held fast to the leg of his pants. "Hey, hey. Don't do that, don't pull away. I want to help you. Is this like your scars? You know I don't care how it looks."

Belle didn't know why Gold would resist her help now when she'd seen him fully naked several times. She'd mapped his body in her mind, traced his every scar. She knew every inch of the man as surely as he knew her.

"It's not about how it looks. You shouldn't have to take care of me, I can manage this. I have for years. It's fine."

Belle rose to her knees before him, resting her hands lightly on his spread thighs. "I love you, I really and truly do, but forget about interesting, you have to be the most stubborn man in the world!" She arched up and kissed him soundly on the lips, then on the forehead as if he was a small boy. "It doesn't make you weak if you let me take care of you. You're in pain, it's written all over your face. And you're so tired of fighting this, I can see it. Let me help, you know I can."

Her voice was soft and coaxing; lover, mother and friend all at once. Gold was already under her spell. He had no more words of protest. He only nodded to Belle's satisfaction.

She knelt down before him again, removing his shoes and socks, then drawing back the leg of his trouser on the injured leg. What was revealed were the numerous surgical scars cutting all over his calf and knee, the bend and the bulge of the injury itself. She had seen his naked leg in passing many times but she'd never given it such a thorough inspection before. Belle smoothed her hand over him, careful with her touch. Gold had survived horrendous injury but she wouldn't hurt him if she could help it.

"How many surgeries?" Belle asked. She began a subtle, gentle massage of him. It was painful at first, but as it went on, the knots began to loosen and his cramp eased. A strange pleasure began to rise through the pain.

Gold shifted again, lolling his head back against the sofa and rubbing his eyes. "Five. The last one was fifteen years ago. It helped. I'll always have to limp and be in some pain, but it's manageable even without the drugs. After the fifth, I couldn't stand another stay in hospital and physical therapy. I'm done with x-rays and recovery time and screws in my bones." Gold bit his lip to stop himself from moaning as the pain receded. "This is helping, though."

Truly, his woman had gifted hands and Gold was already wondering at ideas on how he could convince her to give him regular back and shoulder massages.

"Good." Belle smiled. She was pleased to help him in any way she could. He had been so alone for so long, and he had gone to some lengths to care for her. He made her fight to do something as small as a massage to ease his pain, but she had fought him and she had won. "Sit back. Close your eyes, relax. When I finish here we'll eat something. If your leg starts to bother you again, I'll keep massaging it, then ice it down. We'll keep it elevated when we go to bed. You'll feel better in the morning."

She kissed his forehead again, the dedicated caretaker.

"I already do." Gold opened his eyes and caught her wrist, stroking her pulse point with his thumb. "Thank you, Belle. You are...amazing."

The woman drew back and shook her head. "No, I'm just me."

"That's what I said."


	39. Joy & Pain

Gold woke slowly, leaving his dreams and returning to the world piece by piece. He had no desire to wake. It was a crisp Saturday in the fall. He'd taken to closing the shop on the weekends so that his time could be free for Belle. It was his independent business, he could host hours as he liked.

The man thought on the night before, how he'd dragged himself to Belle while his leg screamed in pain rather than admit his weakness or risk hurting her feelings by declining to see her. He would low crawl naked through glass shards before he hurt Belle again.

And the woman?

She had railed against his pride, called him stubborn and then tended to him all night. Having had no choice but to become accustomed to pain over the years, and having so few people to care for him, Gold had been unused to her 'mother hen' treatment. Ignoring his protests, Belle had massaged his leg, iced his injury to prevent any swelling and then served the take-out dinner he'd brought from the diner. Once their meal was done with, Belle had brewed him a cup of tea (his steady chamomile rather than one of her fruity blends) with a measure of bourbon snuck in to help him sleep since he'd refused her medication.

Belle had helped him undress down to his boxer briefs and his usual black undershirt before helping him settle into her bed with the promise that she would join him after she'd finished cleaning up the kitchen. Gold was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and dead to the world fifteen minutes later when Belle returned to her room.

She'd come in, wanting Gold to lay his head in her lap while she read her latest novel. But instead she'd come into the room to find Gold sprawled on his back, taking up most of the bed and his face as relaxed and peaceful as she'd ever seen it. She moved closer and kissed his forehead, her poor aching love.

As he had spread out and took up so much space on the bed, Belle elected to sleep on the sofa. No harm, no foul.

Belle took her novel, a pillow and a throw blanket, and settled in the living room.

Gold woke alone in her bed, though he was happily surrounded by her scent in the linens. He loved Belle's pillows, they were the perfect balance of support and softness. So like Belle. In typical Gold fashion, he thought of stealing her pillows as a way to lure her back into his home.

He flexed his leg, stretching, relieved to find that Belle's brand of magic had worked on him overnight. He felt back to normal, if not completely renewed. The man slipped on a pair of the lounge pants Belle kept in an extra drawer for him - a concession he adored her for - an performed a few stretches to reassure himself his leg wouldn't give out from under him.

Gold left the bed to find Belle still sleeping on the living room sofa. He didn't like that, that she had taken care of him and he'd repaid her by taking up the whole bed. Nothing for it now, but he would make breakfast.

Belle woke to the scents of eggs, toast and more chamomile tea.

"Mmm, good morning. How's your leg?" She asked as she came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Gold turned in her arms to face her. Belle hugged him tighter, enjoying the kiss he dropped to the crown of her head. "Much better, thank you. You're a miracle worker."

"Me and the bourbon I put in your tea. You don't mind, do you?"

Gold pulled back to tend the eggs. "Not at all. I know it put me out and that was what I needed more than anything."

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Belle said as she sank into one of the chairs at her table, watching him cook. She wished he'd woken her, she loved cooking with him.

"So am I." Gold brought her a plate and joined her at the table. "And it's all thanks to you, so today is yours. What do you want to do? I'll do anything."

Belle kept silent at that for a few minutes, carefully chewing her breakfast and thinking on his offer.

_Oh, you poor man, do you know what you've just promised me_

"Anything?" She asked with a raised brow.

Mistaking her meaning, Gold nodded eagerly. "Yes, anything you want."

Belle's sultry look had a sudden, sharp edge to it that had Gold immediately regretting his words.

"Oh, I love it when they say that."

______________________________

"No."

"You said anything."

"Yes, but I didn't mean this!"

"It's not my fault that you agreed without asking what it was you were agreeing to."

Gold scowled at her and bit his tongue. He knew he'd been beat - and with one of his own loopholes, no less! Belle smiled when she saw the defeat in his eyes.

There he was, Mr. Gold hoist by his own petard.

Earlier in the morning, Belle had told Gold how she wanted to spend the day: she wanted to have a "girls' night."

A girls' night. With him.

The man hadn't understood at first when she'd told him.

"I want a girls' night." Belle had announced at the breakfast table.

It wasn't often that Gold would socialize with Belle's circle, but he wasn't unknown to them anymore. He'd been welcomed into the fold with open arms and so didn't mind it when he assumed Belle wanted to invite her girlfriends to join them that evening.

"You want to invite a few of them over to mine? That's fine, I'll cook. But let Shane and Marcus come too, I don't want to be the only man there with all you hens."

Belle had nudged his foot with hers under the table. "Not what I had in mind."

"Mmm, you want to go out tonight? Jefferson told me a new place opened in Sunshire. Invite who you like."

"That's not what I want either."

Gold finished his breakfast and set his napkin aside. "Well, what, then?"

Minutes later he was sorry that he'd asked, as Belle had strung him up by his own agreement to any way she wanted to spend the day and Gold found himself on the receiving end of Belle's favorite beauty ritual: a manicure.

Taking pity on his pleas to preserve his dignity, Belle hadn't forced him to Ariel's salon, but she had managed to convince him to stay still as she tended to his hands. Gold didn't like this at all - a manicure, of all things! Surely Belle was only doing this to embarrass him. The indomitable Mr. Gold getting a manicure from his girlfriend - again, he inwardly cringed at the label; Belle was younger than himself but she was a woman, not a girl - like some damn dandy, the whole thing was absurd!

Still, as Gold watched Belle work, he had to admit that his hands had never looked better. By the time Belle had finished with him, his nails were clean, trimmed, moisturized and buffed. The lotion she'd used to massage his hands smelled of peppermint.

_I hate myself for enjoying this._

"My hands look wonderful, Belle."

"Give me some credit. You didn't think I'd paint your nails pink, did you?" Belle teased him.

Gold shrugged. "You had me worried."

"I'm saving that for your toes." She laughed.

"I see I've been a corrupting influence, for you to threaten me like that." He said. "Let me do you."

Belle gasped happily and Gold shook his head. "Such a dirty mind you have, more of my bad influence."

She swatted his shoulder, "I don't know that a dirty mind is a bad thing where we're concerned."

"Hmm, in that I am inclined to agree." Gold smirked and took her hands, tending her as she had done to him. This was a new experience for him, and odd as it was, it was not unpleasant. He felt useful, a worthy man to care for her like this. His efforts were clumsy from inexperience, but Belle was happy to be groomed.

Maybe he could paint her toes. He wouldn't mind.

Gold knew no woman rolled out of bed without a hair out of place, but he was still surprised when Belle had brought out her personal manicure kit. Perhaps _kit_ was too diminutive a word, for her 'kit' consisted of a chrome collection of sharp scrapers, cuticle trimmers, pointed files and stinging polish remover. Less a manicure case and more a murder's toolset.

In addition, Belle had lotions and oils and porestrips and masks and buffing stones and piles of other things that Gold was happy to remain largely ignorant of. Milah had been that way as well; their bathroom had always been overrun with her cosmetics.

After, when he and Belle had matching nails, the woman made another suggestion that Gold fought against.

"It'll be fun."

"For you, not for me."

"That's what you thought about the manicure but you liked it, admit it!"

"I plead the fifth on that, dearie." Gold said smugly. He loved to argue with her.

Belle huffed at him and went to her room, slamming the door behind her. Her flashes of temper, these he didn't love. She wasn't truly upset with him, he knew, but Belle liked to play up her every imagined insult as some drama.

Gold tapped at the bedroom door with his cane, calling to her. "Open up, Belle."

"No."

"Come on, now. Don't make me break the door down."

"You can't."

Gold curled his lip in a tiny, silent snarl. Even though he knew she was only playing with him, he hated when she cast doubt on his physical capabilities. "Are you sure you want to test that?" He demanded, pounding the door hard with his fist to make his point.

"..."

"All right, fine. I'm breaking this door down and I'll be damned if I'm the one to pay for its repair."

Still silence was his only answer.

"Fine, woman." Gold backed up a step, readying himself to kick the door in. "And you call me stubborn-"

Before Gold could kick, Belle leapt through the doorway and pounced him. The man yelped and drew back, startled by the sight of her. There was some kind of blue-green gel smeared all over her face. Before he could take another step back, Belle reached to him, smearing a wide streak of it across his cheek.

"You cheeky thing!" Gold held her wrist to stop her smearing his face further. He saw her fingers were coated in the stuff, whatever it was. The man was not amused. "What does this even do?"

"Moisturizes and invigorates." Belle told him, quoting the advertisement. She freed her hand from his grip and Gold did not stop her as she went on smearing the gel mask over his face. The man must truly love her to allow this.

Gold still didn't fully trust her, though. He had confiscated her cell phone as a condition of their "girls' night" for fear that she would take pictures of him doing something ridiculous and post them all over the Internet. No quick cure for the man's paranoia, it seemed.

She smoothed an even coat of the mask over his face, taking care to avoid his eyes. Gold held still for her, until his face was a blue-green reflection of her own.

"Why do women do this?" He asked. The answer was invariably the same when he asked it of the women in his acquaintance.

"We do it to look pretty for you." Belle said, making a silly face at him, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. "Also it's just fun to peel off."

She demonstrated by peeling off a patch of her mask where it had dried. Gold grimaced. He could feel his own mask stretching from his frown. "And you do this often?"

Belle shrugged. "Once every few days."

"You know, the better we get to know each other, the more I realize how strange you are." Gold said.

_Yes, Belle. You are strange and fun and wonderful. You're mine. And I am yours._

"You're one to talk about strange habits, Mr. Gold. You with your strawberry plants." The revelation of his secret garden in the sideyard of his house had been a wonderful find. He'd gifted her with a small jar of preserves just weeks before.

"I told you about those in confidence!" He snapped.

"Oh, stop." She gave a quick peck to his lips. "I haven't told anyone."

"And you won't. Or else." Gold warned.

Belle raised her brows at him, forcing cracks in the drying mask coating her forehead. "Or else...?"

Gold immediately deflated. The beast tamed by this petite beauty. "That was the extent of my threat. I don't have anything else."

Belle took his hand and lead him back into her room, to the bathroom so they could peel off their masks. They stood before her mirror, the dried gel peeling from their faces and being disposed of in the sink. Such a strange morning.

"How's your leg?" She asked as he moved to sit on the edge of her bed.

Belle moved in close, standing between his spread legs. On reflex, as natural as breathing, Gold's hands smoothed around her thighs, coming to rest just under the curve of her backside. He pulled her in, bringing her closer. Gold pressed his cheek to her right hip, then lifted the hem of her shirt and kissed her there.

What had she asked him? Oh, yes. Something about his leg.

"It feels fine." He lifted his hands, gave an affectionate squeeze to her bottom. He kissed her hip again, smiling against her skin once he felt her nails against his scalp. "I still owe you for that wonderful massage from last night."

"Oh, aye?" She asked, and her voice had grown husky, low.

"Oh, aye. I think that mask worked, Belle. I'm feeling...invigorated."

Gold pulled her down onto the bed and pinned her there, that wicked gleam in his eye.

"I certainly hope so." She smiled at him as Gold lifted the hem of her shirt and kissed her navel, then began to kiss a slow trail down and down and down...

_______________________________

A weekend deeper into the approaching winter found Gold sharing his bed with both Belle and another woman, one of voracious appetite and jealous, possessive intention. At first, Belle had been happy with their arrangement, in fact the first night had been her idea. As time wore on, however, Belle had become discontent. She wanted her man to herself again, but Gold was reluctant to go back to the way things were.

"I can't do this anymore." Belle told him, her eyes serious and arms crossed. "It's her or me. If you choose her then I might as well just go back to my apartment."

"Belle, please don't say that." Gold pleaded. He couldn't bear it when she wasn't with him. The house was lonely enough for him on the days when she only visited - he couldn't lose her, not now. "Things will get better, you'll see."

"No, they won't. Not with her between us." Belle stood firm. This new addition had only been coming between them for a short time, but she was through with compromising. "You can't even see it, can you? She wants you all to herself."

Gold shook his head, denying everything. "You're the only one who wants me for me, but it can't be just us anymore. Not with her here."

"I've had enough. Only one of us will be in your bed tonight. Make your choice."

And there it was.

The first ultimatum thrown between them.

Gold drew himself up, planting both hands on his cane. The stance Belle recognized when he was feeling defensive.

"Belle, please, I-"

"Go!"

They both turned to Grace as she, once again, jealously demanded his attention. Belle sighed lightly, feeling ridiculous - fighting over Gold like he was a toy. Maybe she and Grace weren't equals in age, but they were equal in their maturity here.

With Jefferson away for another out of state interview, Gold had taken Grace into his home. Grace's visit had coincided with Belle's weekend to stay over at his, and they'd been playing house for two days already. It had been fine at first, but now Mommy and Daddy were arguing over how to best care for Baby, so this game of playing house was far more realistic than Belle truly realized.

With Grace in between them throughout the weekend, the only activity in his bed had been some light snoring.

Now it was Belle's final night to spend with him, and she wanted to spend it with him _alone_. As much as she loved Grace, Belle was no longer in the sharing mood.

"Belle, I haven't a crib for her. I got rid of it years ago."

 _Stand firm_ , Belle reminded herself. "Even if you still had it, I wouldn't make you rebuild the thing for her. She's been sleeping through the night, let's just make a little bed for her in your study. She'll be right next door."

Belle took slow, measured steps toward her man, and she could see his resolve weakening in the face of her gentle reason. Belle could be so persuasive when she wanted to.

Gold looked between Belle, who was looking very sultry and very... _ready_ , before looking down at Grace in his arms, so innocent and defenseless and dependent on him; Grace needed him and loved him in the way only a child could. But Belle was his woman, she was the queen of his world now no matter how adamantly Grace insisted that _she_ was the center of the universe.

"What if she wakes up, scared to be alone in the dark?"

"Then she'll cry and we'll take care of her." Belle reasoned. "Nothing has to change, really. She'll just be sleeping by herself."

Gold already knew he was beat. Belle knew that he knew, and by the glare little Gracie was aiming toward her, the toddler knew it too.

"What if she doesn't fall asleep?"

"She will." Belle replied gently. "Look at her. She can barely keep her eyes open. She's been fussy the last half hour and it's because she's tired. You wore her out, kicking that ball around in the backyard."

"She could grow up to play for the Rangers." Gold said, a confession of the hopes he'd pinned on Grace in place of Bae.

"I don't know about that. But I do know that you need to give her to me so I can put her to bed in the study. You need to go lock up the house and then we'll go to bed. Together. Tonight."

Belle's words were innocent but her eyes spoke the true words. She wanted him and she wasn't waiting any longer.

Drawn in, Gold did as she asked, and gave Grace over, then went off to lock up the house.

As soon as he was out of sight, Belle turned a triumphant smirk on the toddler. "You might have him wrapped around your finger, little girl, but there's only room for _one_ lady of the house. Remember that."

Grace had no words to argue her smug statement, so she got her point across by poking Belle in the eye.

________________________________

After bringing in the mail and checking all the doors and windows were secure, Gold looked into the study and saw Grace already sleeping soundly on the sofa. He went into his room and found Belle awake in bed waiting for him, one of her eyes red and teary. "What happened?"

"Girl fight. Don't ask."

"All this over me? I should feel flattered." Gold remarked softly as he moved onto his bed, approaching Belle on his hands and knees.

Belle met him in the middle of the mattress, having changed out of her clothes and into a satin chemise he liked, spring green trimmed in cream lace. "Why don't you? Most men live for the day when women fight over them."

"I'm not most men."

They faced each other, kneeling in the center of the bed. Belle leaned forward and kissed him soundly. "And that is why I love you."

Gold surged against her, then. His hands moved to her waist and then smoothed over her back. Love was teeming between them, love and heat and primal beauty. He pulled her hips, bringing her to straddle his clothed lap as he shifted down to sit. His mouth found her throat, kissing and nuzzling her there. Blood fired in their veins as hands and lips explored.

Gold kissed her collarbones and chest as Belle speared her fingers into his hair, dragging her nails over his scalp. They were breathing heavily, so ready and wanting after nights sleeping just out of reach from each other. Gold's mind was sinking, as it was happy to do when he had Belle to himself like this. All of his petty worries and frustrations drifted away, overwhelmed by warmth and the promise of woman.

So lost was Gold in his pleasure that he didn't realize Belle's body stilling in his arms, and her sudden gasping of, "Oh, God. Oh, God!" was not due to him.

"Oh, Belle, I love you so m-"

All at once, everything changed. "No, stop. Let me go, get off!"

She pulled away and backed up against the headboard.

Gold blinked, startled by this abrupt change in her. "Belle, what's the matter? Was I-?"

"No, look!"

Gold turned to see what Belle was so frantically pointing at, and he felt his ardor cool for the night. Perhaps for the next week. "Oh."

Grace stood at the edge of the bed, watching them both with enormous, curious eyes. Seeing that Gold's attention was on her, Grace lifted her arms, demanding to be held. "Go-go, ba-ba-ba."

Belle didn't stay, she bolted into the bathroom and locked herself inside, her heart pounding and humiliation burning in her cheeks. _Oh my God, she saw us, she saw everything!_

Back in the bedroom, Gold took several deep breaths and imagined unpleasant, boring things to cool the fire Belle had stirred in him. It wouldn't do to reach for Grace while he was still...excited. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts before turning to address the intruder. "You are supposed to be asleep."

The baby tried to climb onto the bed but it was too high for her. She grunted at him, irritated that he hadn't rushed to attend her every whim.

"You were all wrapped up in the study, asleep, not ten minutes ago. You aren't allowed to stay up late and what's even worse, you've scared Belle into the bathroom. I don't know that I'll get her to come back out again."

Grace babbled something back at him, all nonsense to an adult's ears, but had she only the words, the toddler would have reminded them that making love is a natural and beautiful thing that should be celebrated, not shamed. It wasn't her fault that Belle was so upset.

All Gold heard, however, was, "Go uppa, ba-ba-ba."

He grudgingly moved to her side of the bed and scooped her up. "No, no. You've had your last bottle for tonight. You need to go back to sleep."

The baby squirmed in his arms, so he set her on the bed at his side, where she sat, content to be the only female there with him, as Grace believed it her rightful place to be. She smiled at him, pleased with herself for driving Belle away.

It was a short-lived sense of victory, as Belle came out of the bathroom in a pair of his pajamas with his flannel robe tied tight over them. Gold got the message.

"She saw us."

The man shook his head. "She didn't see anything."

Belle shook her head back at him, her cheeks burning anew when Grace turned around to look at her. Belle felt exposed, as if the whole world had seen what they'd been doing, rather than one little trouble-maker. "No, she saw us and she knows that you were doing horrible filthy things to me and that I loved it. Look at her, she's judging me right now! I can see it in her eyes."

Grace smiled back at Belle, agreeing with Belle's paranoid fears. "Da-da-da!"

_Yes, I saw what you were doing, Miss French. You're going to remember this for the rest of your life, that's what you get for stealing Gold from me!_

Gold laughed at Belle. Really, she was being ridiculous. "I hadn't even gotten round to half of the horrible filthy things I wanted to do to you tonight. You're overreacting. Grace doesn't know what she saw. All she knows is that she woke up, came in here and found us and now she's getting the attention she wanted. That's all."

A new humiliation dawned on Belle, "Oh my God, we woke her up - she must have heard us!"

"A dada a sa!" _I heard everything!_ Grace babbled in agreement, pointing a chubby, judgmental finger at Belle as she bounced on the bed, mocking her.

"You're panicking over nothing." Gold waved a hand, dismissing this whole scene.

Belle's eyes widened. "You can't even see it! Look at her bouncing like that, she's doing it on purpose. I'm telling you, she knows what we were doing!"

Gold rolled his eyes. "You must think all toddlers are diabolical little perverts to be carrying on like this."

"Not all of them, just her! She's angry that you're with me."

"So let her be angry." Gold scoffed. "What can she do about it? Come hell or high water, you're mine and I'm yours, Belle. Now, I'm putting her back to bed and that'll be the end of this."

Gold took Grace into his arms and made off into the study, hoping Belle will have calmed herself by the time he returned. Even the strongest of women could be upset by this, he knew, but Gold wasn't upset by it at all. Annoyed at the interruption, yes, but nothing would convince him that a toddler could comprehend what she had seen in any real sense. Belle was embarrassed over nothing, he was sure of it.

"She's acting like the whole of Storybrooke walked in on us." Gold muttered. "Who're you going to tell?"

Grace didn't babble at him, she only clung tighter to his neck as he crossed into the study. Gold knelt down to the sofa and the blankets that Belle had set out for Grace. He laid her down and tucked her in, stern in the face of her displeased fussing once she understood she was being put to bed again. "None of that, Grace. You will not leave the study again. You'll go to sleep and we'll see each other in the morning. And you'll stop fighting over me with Belle. She and I belong to each other, so this can't go on."

Gold's direct words got across, for while Grace still pouted at being returned to bed, she settled into the nest of blankets and seemed ready to obey him. Gold nodded, satisfied. "Right. I'll see you in the morning, sweet girl."

He kissed Grace on the forehead and left the study, leaving the door open a crack. He returned to his room and climbed into bed beside Belle. Curled on her side, the woman was still concerned over being caught in the act, or, really, not yet in the act but they had been minutes away from joining.

"I can't believe this happened."

Gold reached over and laid his hand on her waist. "You're worrying for nothing. At this age she doesn't know what she saw and she won't remember any of it. All she knows if that she found us together in here. What of it?"

"She saw us, and because of this she's going to get with boys way too early in life, get pregnant before high school's over, she'll never go to college and she'll have a horrible life and it'll all be because of us." Belle listed off, still upset but enjoying her imagined drama. "How can you live with that on your conscience?"

Gold laughed at her, "Seeing as how none of that will happen, I'm not bothered a bit. All this worrying will give you wrinkles, my dear. Calm down or we'll have a matching set of frown lines."

Belle rolled over to face him. "I know I'm acting a little crazy over this."

"Just a litte?"

She nudged his feet with hers under the covers. "Sorry that I'm not comfortable with anyone outside of you seeing me in a compromising position. We can't all be like the wild and crazy Mr. Gold!"

"Oh, I'm a wild and crazy guy?"

"Everyone knows you have rave parties here on the weekend and the pawn shop is just a source of money so you can keep up your extreme sports hobby." She teased.

Gold rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's me. Skydiving on Tuesdays, BMX on Wednesdays and on Fridays I go spelunking."

Much as she liked this game, building him a secret imaginary life that could rival any action star, she had to ask him, "How can you be so calm about being caught like that?"

"Probably because history is repeating itself tonight." Gold shrugged.

"What're you talking about?"

His voice was quiet in the dark.

"Bae."

"What about him?"

Under the covers, Gold reached for her hand. "He found us while Milah and I were...ah, trying to make a sister for him."

Belle burst out laughing, quick to stifle the sound for fear of waking Grace again. "No! Bae saw you? What did you do?"

Gold shrugged, recalling the scene. It came back to him and he couldn't stop his fond smile at the absurdity of it all. Maybe being caught out was something every couple experienced, all over the world since the dawn of time. He wondered if all women got upset when this happened, or if Milah and Belle were just cut from the same cloth in that way.

"Much the same. I put him back to bed and then came back hoping to pick up where I left off..." He said slyly, reaching for Belle under the covers, trying to draw her to him.

Belle put her arm out, stopping him. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Gold raised a brow, "The mood is gone?"

"It was gone the second I saw her. Sorry."

Gold wouldn't push for anything, but the man had to try.

"Anything I can do to convince you?" He asked, kissing and nuzzling into her neck with the hope of renewing the fire from before.

Belle shoved at him, exasperated with the night. "Oh, my God. Move. I'm going to sleep in the room upstairs."

Gold held tight to her, damned if he would let her leave the bed. "The hell you will. After all our arguing, you're sleeping here with me."

She relaxed against him, "You really are charming, Mr. Gold."

"A man tries, Miss French."

______________________________

Belle woke first when she heard Grace crying in the study. Beside her, Gold began to stir. "It's all right, I'll get her." Belle told him as she threw back the covers and left the room.

She left his room and entered the study. Grace was still laying on the sofa in her nest of blankets, fussing, but she brightened to see Belle come into the room for her.

Belle smiled down at their Peeping Tom. "I see you're awake bright and early."

Grace smiled, "Go!"

"Oh, you want to steal him away from me first thing in the morning, huh?" Belle swept the baby up in her arms and bounced her, playing gently as Grace shrieked in laughter. "Well, you can't have him! The 'Go' belongs to me and I don't like to share!"

She bounced Grace again and blew a raspberry against her belly. The toddler yelled and laughed, the both of them back to being friends now after the incident from the night before. Belle changed her diaper and then changed her clothes, a pair of pants and a t-shirt with a cutesy pink dinosaur on the front.

As Gold dressed in his room, Belle went on playing with Grace, tickling and bouncing her, the simplest of things making the baby shriek with laughter. As they played, Belle felt the growling of her stomach under Gold's pajama set. A nice breakfast for them all - sausage and fruit for the adults of the house, cereal for the lone child.

Grace yelled at Belle and bounced where she stood, flapping her arms and looking for all the world like a penguin, if Belle had to put a word to it. "Come on, you. Little troublemaker, I'll get you something to eat."

Grace, happy as anything, toddled after Belle into the kitchen and told her, _I want pears and Cheerios, Miss French!_

What Grace actually said, however, was far more telling than her snack request. "Mama!"

Belle turned to Grace, her eyes wide with surprise because that was the last thing she expected to hear. "Did you just-?"

"Mama!" Grace yelled again, just in case Belle hadn't heard her the first time.

Belle shook her head, "No, no. Gracie, I'm not-"

"Mama."

She knelt down and drew the toddler in to her. "No. You can't call me that."

Gold chose just that moment to walk into the kitchen. He smiled to find Belle with baby Grace in her arms, the scene warmed his heart, but Grace's new word sent a rush of ice through his veins.

"Mama."

Belle looked at him with a strange expression, both embarrassed and worried. She felt how wrong it was, for Grace to see her as her mother. She had only met Jefferson a handful of times, and the subject of Grace's true mother had never come up - Belle had no idea of the other woman, but it wasn't right for Grace to have become so attached this way.

Belle loved Grace but she wasn't her mother. They didn't belong to each other, not in the way that Gold had belonged to Bae and Bae had been so completely his. Belle wanted that for herself someday. She wanted it with him, no one else, but having Grace address her as mother was not the way she'd wanted to start the discussion of their future together.

"I, uh, it sounds like Gracie has learned a new word."

Grace smiled at Gold, "Mama. Ma-ma-ma."

In return, Gold gave a soft smile of his own. "I heard."

"Mama."

Belle huffed lightly, "I can't get her to shake it."

"No, she knows it's wrong so she's going to keep doing it." Gold said, half-joking.

Grace agreed with several more chants of _mama_ , and Gold had to stop himself from wincing.

"You're right about that." Belle said, picking her up and bouncing the baby in her arms a little, making her laugh. "She's a troublemaker, I told you last night."

"Mama, a da-da-da go." Grace yelled out to them both.

_Stop. Please stop._

All at once, the scene was too familiar, too close to his past. The house was suddenly too hot and too small. Gold needed to get outside for fresh air, he needed to get ahold of himself. He needed to escape. _Now._ God, he had to stop this. Grace wasn't Bae returned to him and Belle wasn't Milah, the Milah he'd grown with as a man, husband and father.

The man struggled to take in a breath and maintain some semblance of himself before her.

"Belle, I need to step outside for a minute."

The woman nodded but said nothing as he made a hasty retreat to the backyard, the chants of "mama, mama" chasing him out of the house.

_______________________________

**I will be in Storybrooke in two weeks.**

Gold nodded at the text and set his cell aside. Another meeting. He had never let himself forget, naturally, but he had been so happy with Belle the past several months in their new relationship that he had let himself push this unpleasant truth aside. He couldn't think of that now, not when he could still hear Grace in his mind, calling out her new favorite word throughout the day, addressing Belle as 'Mama' every few minutes in a voice painfully similar to Bae's.

It had been a special kind of torture.

Gold glanced over to Belle, asleep beside him. So warm and soft and wonderful.

He had been so stupid to enjoy playing house like this without seeing the potential consequences.

Grace saw Belle as a mother and Gold as a stand-in for her father while Jefferson was away.

It was like a punch in the chest, every single time the toddler called out "mama" to Belle.

And then there was Belle herself. She knew how difficult the day had been for him, and to protect him, she had suggested that she take Grace over to her apartment for a few hours. Masochist that he was, Gold hadn't allowed her to take the girl.

Besides, Jefferson had trusted _him_ to watch over his daughter, not Belle. Gold wasn't one to shirk his duties, no matter how painful.

Belle had seemed to agree, but all throughout the day the woman had gone out of her way to shield him from Grace's calling of 'mama' in any way she could. Mostly, Belle kept Grace to herself and avoided him. She took the baby out to the backyard to play ball, she brought the baby into the music room upstairs to read her a story, she took her up into Belle's blue room to give her a bath, she tried everything she could to keep Gold and Grace apart, but as was cosmic cruelty, Gold could hear _mama_ no matter where they were in the house.

The man could see that on some level, some deep level of instinct and pride, Belle was secretly enjoying it. He could see it, he was a man with some experience. He had seen that same proud gleam in Milah's eyes when Baelfire had found his voice.

Gold had already admitted that Belle had brought him out of the gray drudgery his life had become; he had only been dragging on after the end of his family rather than making an attempt to live again. She had brought him to life and now, he had to wonder about a fresh start with Belle in every sense.

A new life.

He pictured a small ceremony with naught more than a few friends on either side of the aisle. Belle in white lace and silk. He in a new dark suit with a carnation in his lapel. She would return to the house with him and they would continue on as they had; sharing books, sharing meals, working on the house. Belle's position in town would be elevated, Gold would have made it clear to every and anyone that harsh gossip against his friend, his wife, would not be tolerated. She'd be the undisputed queen of Storybrooke, a ring of gold and diamonds acting as her crown.

But children?

In his relationship with Cora, he'd tried to imagine a new beginning with her, and with Regina, and with whatever came of their union. Cora had wanted that with him. However, they'd found each other while they were still broken from loss - she from the loss of her first husband and he from the loss of his whole world. Even years after the fact, he had been too broken to start anew. He'd tried for months with her - first dating, then she'd felt secure enough to introduce him to her daughter, he'd found himself acting as a stepfather and mentor to Regina, and they had all carried on like a family - but what Cora had wanted, a marriage and more children, Gold had not been ready to provide.

The thought of having another child had screamed at him of a betrayal against Bae.

He hadn't been ready to be a true father nor a husband again. Cora had understood as best she could, and they had parted ways. It had been yet another painful separation in his life, second only to his greatest tragedy.

But now, with Belle.

A true new beginning.

Belle would be a wonderful mother, he knew. It was written all over her. She was healthy, infused with vitality. So bright and joyful. So caring and gentle and kind. Belle French was everything a mother, everything a woman, should be.

And him?

Gold wasn't in the spring of his life any longer, but children had a way to liven things up; he might be older than his former self when he'd first became a father, but he wasn't some decrepit octogenarian. Happiness infused energy into anyone. He recognized the change in himself since becoming involved with Henry and Grace - he was happier, lighter and more energetic when he was with them. Before Belle, they had been the sole bright spots in his dark life.

Belle made him feel hope. A new child, any child to come from his union with her...that would be nothing but a blessing. Visions of little boys and girls with bright blue eyes danced through his mind, the brothers and sisters of Baelfire.

Could he have that? After everything he'd lost, everything he'd done...could he have that blessing again?

If he had it, Belle and children, and something - anything - were to happen...

_No._

_I can't live through that again. Never again._

Gold pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed at his temples. So many big thoughts were crowding his mind. He was tired from carrying the weight of his secrets and grief. Before he could move on to a future with Belle, he would need to let go of the past.

He reread the text and thought on his reply for over an hour. In time, close to three in the morning, Gold typed out his response.

**G: I'll make the usual arrangements.**

That was all that was needed.


	40. Shades of the Mother

Gold was pulling away.

Belle could feel it, she could see it. There was no striking change in her man - he had not left Storybrooke as he had the previous winter. She still wondered about where he'd gone, what he'd done those weeks he'd been away last year, but Gold was not a man who volunteered personal information and it didn't feel right to ask him about it now.

Still, as the days grew shorter and colder, so did Gold grow quieter and more somber. He smiled less often, his attention drifted. His appetite waned, even when Belle made the effort to prepare his favorite meals; he assured her that the food was delicious, and gave some half-hearted excuse about being distracted with his work.

A lie if Belle had ever heard one. Gold sent her a gift the next day to make up for it, a box of lemon cupcakes.

Belle split the treats with her friends, wishing all the while that Gold would open up to her about how he was feeling, about what this time of the year meant to him. She would help if only he would let her.

Belle knew it was upon them, his unhappy anniversary.

Still, she didn't push him on this. Love was patience. Belle knew her role with him as his woman and his friend. When Gold was ready to talk, she would listen. When he was ready to laugh again, she would laugh right along with him.

She offered whatever comfort the could. She brought food to his home when she visited him after work, she told him embellished, amusing stories about her day at the library. She let him put his head in her lap as she read to him, nevermind that he usually fell asleep minutes after she began to stroke her fingers through his hair.

Belle never denied him sex. Making love was as much about comforting him as it was about connecting and seeking their pleasure. Whether rough or gentle, Gold _needed_ her. After, Belle held him against her, within her, keeping him close to protect him from the memories that gripped his heart.

One night, after the first snow, after Belle had given herself to him in her bed, she had woken to his hitched sobbing. He was on his side, turned away from her, trying to keep quiet. Belle said nothing. She only moved closer and brought her arm around him, pressing her naked breasts to the scars of his back. Gold stilled, but the soothing stroke of Belle's hand over the scars on his bicep urged him to cry out his grief.

Gold did not turn to face her, but the man trusted her to hold him as he wept.

______________________________

In a very real way, Belle began to miss him.

Even when he was with her in the same room or beside her in bed, Gold was far away. The past still had its hold on him. Belle respected his grief. Still, she wished that he would come back to her. It had grown lonely with him being so distant.

_Lonely girl._

Gold rolled over next to her, his arm coming around her waist as he slept. Belle held him close and stroked his burn scars. She thought of how open he'd been only weeks before. Before Grace had called her 'mama' and brought on this unspoken tension between them, before the weather had changed and the memory of his lost family had risen to swallow him into this shroud of melancholy.

They had shared more that day than they ever had before. She had come into his home and found his album waiting for her in the living room. After a shared dinner, they had retired there with a bottle of good wine.

Sharing with Belle had become a ritual that Gold both dreaded and looked forward to. Dread because of the pain it brought him, knowing that those good times were lost, but he looked forward to sharing his stories with Belle - he felt lighter afterwards, his broken heart slowly on the mend.

Belle had taken the album from him, paging through it until she found a picture that spoke to her. There were hundreds of stories for him to tell, each one of them a piece of his life. She chose a photograph of Gold with Bae as a toddler. Unlike the other pictures of a chubby, happy little snowman of a baby, Bae was screaming, and likewise, a grimace was on Gold's face, the very beginnings of his frown lines.

"Will you tell me about this one?"

Gold quirked his lips when he recognized the picture. Milah had snapped it, teasing that Gold would never be able to hush their boy. "Fitting, that. Dr. Hopper said to start small. Baby steps, as it were."

Belle looked up. "You've been to see him?"

"Not a full session, but we had a sit-down earlier this week. He's already aware of my past."

"How? I thought even Regina didn't know the full story." _Neither do I,_ was on the tip of her tongue.

"She knows enough." _And so do you, for now._ "No, I actually first met Dr. Hopper when he was barely a day past just being an intern at the hospital. He had to speak with a certain number of trauma patients to meet a quota. Guess who he was assigned to?"

"I had no idea."

"Of course not. His oath as a doctor forbids him from speaking of our sessions."

"How many were there?" Belle asked him, leaning forward.

"Only one. He pushed me too far. I got upset." Gold shook his head. "I'm the reason he has that stutter now."

Belle swatted his shoulder. "You are not!"

"Well. He wasn't so timid back then, he thought he could cheer me up with a few words. He said the wrong thing. Then, I did the wrong thing - several times. He's been worlds more careful since then."

Belle took his hand in hers, kissed it. She moved closer to him on the sofa and kissed his cheek. "Well, despite what happened between you, I'm glad you're taking this step."

"So am I."

Belle looked at the other pictures. Bae with Milah holding him as he wore a tiny Santa hat; as a boy on a small bicycle; as a boy, arm-wrestling his father.

"He's beautiful."

"Yes he was." Gold agreed quietly. "Always happy. I could have counted on one hand the number of times he acted up."

"Tell me?"

Gold chuckled, remembering one hell of a day. "Well, every parent has had to deal with the joy of a three year old screaming at the store when he's refused something. He either wanted candy or a toy, I can't remember which now, but that had been a bad day for us."

Belle tried not to laugh at the mental picture of Gold dragging a screaming baby Bae out of a store. "Did you have to spank him?"

"No, we could usually get him in line without needing to raise a hand to him. I can remember Milah doing it once, though. It was because Bae ran across the street without looking - I'd never seen her so terrified. We both were. She ran after him, yelling that he could have been killed, and spanked him so he wouldn't forget it. I would have done the same thing, but she beat me to it. She was...always faster than me." Gold gave a distant smile and sighed.

"Where were you?"

"Oh, I was trying to mow the lawn when the boy decided to run after a few other kids across the street. I'm sure there was all kinds of mischief our little man got himself into when I wasn't home." Gold went on, "Milah and I had agreed that I would work while she stayed home with the boy until he was older." _But he never had the chance to get older._

"And that worked for you?" She asked, curious about his domestic arrangement. Hadn't it been Marcus who'd called Gold 'traditional'?

"Yes. Before he started school I would come home for lunch to be with them. It wasn't much time, but it was something. Then after work, my time was his."

"And after?" She asked quietly, and he knew what she meant.

"After...I spent a year...it was a terrible year. I had to let my burns heal and there was physical therapy, I had to adjust to the limp and the cane. After Hopper's attempt at therapy, I refused all help. I didn't want it. I wanted to be left alone. I...started abusing the painkillers. I wanted to blank out the world. I didn't want to die, but I just didn't want to do anything else either. I didn't want to feel anything and for a very long time, I didn't. I was...cold." Gold shook his head. Speaking of his past, both the good times and the bad, was a therapy in itself. Once he started, he found himself unable to stop.

There were things he still kept from Belle, and some things he wish he could take back.

"Tell me." She coaxed, her voice quiet.

"Once my skin had healed and I could manage without a physical therapist, I had the remains of the motel bulldozed to the ground. I buried myself in work, distanced myself from everyone we'd known. A year after it happened, I was unrecognizable, everything about me was harder, more suspicious. My temper. You've seen it, I can be vicious. I lose control. I see red. _Fire red."_ Gold brought himself out of that dark place. "I'm sorry, Belle. This isn't what I wanted to talk about. I wanted us to have a pleasant evening."

Belle leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his before kissing him. "It's all right. I understand. Baby steps, like you said. You know I'm not going anywhere."

Gold nodded, accepting her. They sipped wine. Gold remained quiet as Belle went on looking through his album.

As he allowed her to look into the windows of his past, Belle thought on her own secrets. There were things she hadn't told him, things in her past that she'd rather not speak of. The morning she'd fed him chocolate, Gold had offered to listen to her when she was ready to talk about her own heartbreak, but Belle had remained silent.

_I haven't been fair to him._

Belle had urged Gold to share with her but she hadn't trusted him with her own secrets yet. She took a deep breath. She needed him now. Today of all days, near to her own unhappy anniversary, she needed him. Belle leaned in close and was grateful when he put his arm over her shoulders and drew her in. Belle whispered his name.

"Hmm?"

"Tonight, can I show you my mother?" Belle asked him.

Gold drew back to look at her, smoothed the hair back away from her face. "You have a picture?"

"No, better." Belle said, relieved. She wasn't sure why she'd thought he'd refuse. "Can I use your iPad?"

"You know where it is."

Belle ran into his study and took the tablet from his desk, returning to her place beside him on the sofa. Gold set his album on the coffee table, feeling chagrinned for dominating her time with his past. Belle was usually so bright and bubbly that it could be easy to forget that she had been abandoned, neglected and manipulated throughout her life by the very people who should have been there to protect her.

Gold watched as her fingertips tapped over the screen, and he stroked her hair. The only thing he knew about Belle's mother was that she had abandoned her family - what else did he need to know about the woman? She had left her child in the care of Moe, that walking disaster. Speaking of whom, Gold reminded himself that he had to make the final arrangements for the man's rehab sessions now that he'd been formally sentenced and placed in prison.

Belle brought up a profile and turned the tablet so they could both see it. That they were linked online surprised Gold. "I thought she left?"

Belle nodded and shifted to lean against him. Her eyes were trained on the chosen profile picture of her mother, this woman who was a stranger to her now. "She did. She left both of us."

Gold gave a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder. "Tell me."

"I was in the tenth grade when she left." Belle said, thinking back fifteen years. "She and dad were never very happy, but they had been fighting so much more than what was usual for them that year. One day, I just woke up and she was gone. I didn't think anything of it at the time, I figured that she and my father had just had another fight and she'd left to stay with a friend. She did that sometimes when their fighting went too far."

"Did he hit her?" Gold asked, his voice a deep rumble at her back.

Belle took a deep breath, remembering. "They would hit each other, yes. Once or twice that I can remember. It didn't happen every day or every time they fought. But it happened."

"Did they ever hit _you?"_ Gold demanded.

He couldn't reach her mother yet, but if that bastard had ever raised a hand to Belle, then forget the promises he'd made - Gold would see the man gutted.

Belle was startled at the quiet ferocity in his voice, the sudden tightness of his hold on her. She understood. She would kill anyone who ever hurt him. It was fortunate that her parents had never hurt her. Not with their hands. "No, they didn't hit me."

She could feel Gold relax behind her, she felt the press of his lips to the crown of her head. A small comfort.

"What happened after she left?" He asked after a moment, returning to her mother.

"Once we realized she hadn't just gone to stay with friends, my father called the police. They did a search, but the evidence all pointed to her having left Storybrooke."

"Evidence?"

"She took her purse, had a friend drop her off in Sunshire where she bought a new cell phone with a different number. They discovered that she'd set up a separate bank account with her own cards. They found she'd bought an airline ticket online, and there was security footage of her boarding a plane to Miami. She was alone, no one forced her to go. She'd been planning to leave for months, maybe years."

Gold was quiet for a time, reflecting on Belle's words. He looked down to the tablet in her hands. Looked at the picture of her mother, a woman who looked much like Belle herself. Her skin was a few shades darker, her jaw more pointed, her face more angular, her hair was darker, straighter.

She and Belle had the same eyes. Gold didn't like that. Such a cold woman shouldn't share eyes with the warm woman he loved.

"When did you find her?"

At that, Belle gave a half-hearted laugh. "It was a few years ago. I wasn't even looking for her. I was just playing online one day when I put her name in and there she was."

"She was on the site?"

"Yes. She had set up her account only a few weeks before I entered my search." Gold didn't keep an account, so Belle went on to explain, "I couldn't look at her full profile unless we were linked online. I knew it was a risk, that she might just delete her account and disappear again, but I chanced it and sent a request. It took _six weeks_ , but then, it happened. She accepted. By that time I had grown so frustrated and angry that I couldn't hold back. I was done waiting. The first thing I did was send her a message. Just one word."

"What word?"

_"Why?"_

Gold took a deep breath, restrained himself from the urge to get up and start pacing. He wanted to find this woman, run her down and demand what she was, what kind of creature she was to abandon her daughter so callously and then flaunt her new life online for the whole world to see.

"Did she ever respond?"

Belle nodded. "Yes. I asked her why, and all she said was, _'Because I was sick of being unhappy.'"_

Unhappy.

The woman had abandoned her husband and daughter because she was unhappy. A husband and wife separating, Gold could understand that, certainly. A husband and wife who aimed for an amicable divorce for the sake of their children, he could understand that easily enough. But for a parent, a mother no less, to pick up and leave everything behind...leaving Belle in the care of an inept father, leaving her angry to her own devices, alone without guidance...

Had she only a mother, Belle would have resisted the lure of the older men she'd run with as a teenager. She could have been happy, her entire life might have been different.

Had her mother only been there for Belle, rather than being out for herself.

"How could she..."

"I've sent her a hundred different messages since then. No reply. Because we're still linked on the site, I can see everything. Her pictures and her posts. She can see everything of mine too but I don't know if she's ever even looked. She wasn't interested in my life before she left, so why would she care about me now?"

It wasn't right, how Belle had had no choice but to accept her own mother's rejection. Everything she was telling him was so fundamentally wrong that he felt sick to his stomach. The woman Belle was now, the girl she had been...horrible things weren't meant to happen to one like her. She didn't deserve this.

Gold was still trying to understand what he had done to deserve the fire.

"What does she post?" He asked. He had seen Belle's profile before, so he knew the sort of things that she and her friends added to the wall.

Belle tapped the screen and began to scroll down, showing him her mother's most recent posts. A lot of nonsense that didn't warrant the time it took to type them, Gold thought. Did the world need to know of her mother's every trip to the grocery store and see pictures of her food? At least Belle posted quotes from whatever novel she was reading, the upcoming events for her library and pictures of all the places she wanted to see someday.

Not that he ever looked at her profile on the days when he missed her.

_Ahem._

"She seems happy in her new life." Belle said, her eyes still on her mother's profile. She tapped a picture to enlarge it. Her mother stood with a brown-haired, brown-eyed man at what looked like a party celebrating the Fourth of July. "That's her new man. Anthony. All I know about him is that he works in IT somewhere in Miami. They've been together for years. She didn't leave us for him, she met him after. They have a baby together. My half-brother, John David. She named him after my grandfather." She added bitterly.

It wasn't as exotic as Baelfire or his own name, but Gold thought that John David had a certain noble ring to it.

Belle took a deep shuddering breath, and when she spoke, Gold could hear the catch in her voice. He hated this, that even years later, she suffered at the hands of the one who should have loved her first. It wasn't right and it twisted something inside of him that there was nothing he could do to fix this for her.

"I hope they are happy, that she's not just pretending with this family too. I don't want her to abandon my brother when she decides she isn't happy anymore. He's just a baby, he wouldn't be able to understand why she left. It's been fifteen years and I still can't understand it."

"I don't like her."

It was a plain statement, and far too restrained. All at once, Gold hated Belle's mother. He would be satisfied to see her locked up right along with Moe - he would even have them share a cell. With any luck they'd kill each other, leaving Belle much better off without them.

Belle swiped at her eyes and set the iPad aside. She didn't want to look at her mother any longer. She turned in Gold's arms as he leaned back, letting her rest more fully against him. "That's all right. Neither do I."

"Have you thought of finding her, confronting her in person?"

She nodded, blinking slowly. "I think about it all the time, but what would I do if I did see her again? She's been gone for half my life. I think she only stayed until I was old enough to take care of myself and then as soon as I was old enough to drive and work, she took her first opportunity to leave. She couldn't have known the downturn my father would take, but I doubt it would have mattered to her anyway. She wanted to leave and nothing was going to stop her."

Gold kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. I'm sorry for her, because even if she showed up tonight, right now, I wouldn't want anything to do with her. I'd shut the door in her face." Belle told him with finality. "It's been fifteen years with no contact. What would we even say to each other?"

"I don't know. Maybe she would want to know how you turned out after she left."

Belle swiped at her eyes again. "Oh, I'm wonderful. I always wanted to travel but I've barely set a foot outside Storybrooke since we moved to the States. I wanted to go away to college - I had the grades, but thanks to my father, there wasn't any money for it. I have a degree from an online school."

"You still earned it, Belle."

She seemed not to hear him, her bitterness was flowing forth. Belle had learned to be content with her lot in life, but looking back, it seemed to amount to nothing more than a long line of compromises and dreams only half-realized. Things were changing now that her father was effectively out of her life, but all the same Belle resented him for his failures and she hated herself for allowing him to stifle the potential of her 20s.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful for what I have. My worst day could still be better than someone else's best day. I have no right to complain. I know that everything I have, it could all be gone tomorrow." She said this and immediately regretted it, thinking of poor Gold.

He shook his head, stopping her from apologizing for her choice of words. She needed to say this.

"I have a job I love and not many people can say that. With my mother gone and my father the way he is, my friends became my family. I'm healthy. The other men I've been with have all treated me well. Or, as well as I treated them."

Gold frowned at that last, but he remained quiet as Belle went on.

"And then there's you. You challenged me that first day we met at the library. I couldn't leave to go see remarkable things so you brought them to me. You were my friend. You still are. This is the first time I've known what it's like to be with someone I love. I love you and I trust you. Because you're mine."

"I am."

"If my mother came back to see me...no. She made her choice."

And Belle had made hers.

Gold shifted in the bed beside her once more, bringing her from the memory of that night, weeks ago. She had told him of her mother, and then told him what she'd gone through after the abandonment. Her wild years of anger, the hurting child who pretended at being a daring woman who purposefully tempted men. She'd been angry at the world, she'd learned how to be manipulative and she'd lost herself in alcohol and sex.

Her reckless phase was short-lived; Belle had been too smart a girl to throw her entire life away, but the damage had been done. Belle poured herself out, revealing everything she'd been in the past. Gold had accepted her, accepted all of it. He'd held her and made promises to hunt her mother down, to bring Belle back into his house that very night and protect her from everything she'd suffered.

Belle had refused him.

It still hurt to reflect on it, but Belle had made peace with her past as best she could. She was determined to move on to a bright future and that included him. She didn't need Gold to protect her from what she'd already suffered through. She had suffered, she had survived.

And with him, she could only thrive.

Her man was asleep, but he was restless. He had been for days. Belle could see it in his eyes every time they met. Gold gave her his half-hearted reassurances, but Belle knew him. Just as she had waited, Gold wouldn't tell her anything more until he felt ready.

And that was all right.

Belle loved him. She could be patient.

____________________________

Christmas arrived swiftly and brought with it a nosedive in temperature and gray skies. Belle loved the holiday and usually spent it with her friends, but this year was different now that Gold was the man in her life. If Belle had her way he'd be the only man for the rest of her life, but that was a talk for them to share at another time.

For his part, Gold had fought to bring himself out of his depression for her. His heart still bled, but his love for Belle was healing him, inch by inch. He hadn't celebrated Christmas in two decades, yet he wanted to change for her, to share in some of the happiness she expressed this time of year.

Dr. Hopper had encouraged him to try small steps, rather than a big leap that might prove overwhelming. Gold didn't feel comfortable with going out or having company over to his house, but he'd invited Belle to stay with him for the days leading up to Christmas and she had accepted. She wanted to be with him for this.

They had spent days in pleasant company as they had for so many weekends since the end of summer when Belle had insisted on the fresh start to their relationship by returning to her apartment. Her staying with him for a full week was a more intimate taste of what they'd had in the summer and a glimpse into the near future when she would come back to live with him.

Belle knocked on the door of Gold's study and poked her head inside to see the man rising from behind the desk to greet her. She looked past him to the window and saw that a light snow had just begun, dusting Storybrooke for Christmas.

"Hey."

Gold beckoned her forward, "Come in, Belle."

Belle stepped into the study, as ever her eyes were drawn to the pictures he kept framed on the shelves - Bae and Milah, never far away. "I'm about to go see everyone. I may stay out with them tonight, I just wanted to let you know."

Gold nodded, "I hope you have a nice time."

Belle looked past him, to the paperwork on his desk. "Are you just going to be working today?"

"Yes."

"Why am I not surprised?" She asked, more to herself than to him.

"I'm not a workaholic." He huffed, gently. In their time together, Belle had so far accused him of being a hoarder, a master art thief, a crime lord, the most interesting man in the world, then the most stubborn man in the world and just the night before, she'd teased him, calling him a workaholic. He didn't mind it, really. She wasn't wrong about him on any count.

"No, of course you're not." Belle agreed, playing along. "But you are a fan of my cookies, and I just finished making all of your favorites. They're still warm on the counter."

Inwardly, Gold was touched by the gesture. That she would make up a batch of treats just for him was so simple a thing, but it was very sweet. The gift he'd crafted for her seemed miserably shallow by comparison now, but he couldn't let her leave to see her friends empty-handed.

Gold took a tentative step forward, "Thank you. I...I have something for you as well. I would have given it to you before today, but I..."

_I wasn't ready._

_I haven't been myself._

_I worried you wouldn't like it._

Gold didn't know how to finish that sentence, so he didn't. Instead, he said nothing as he handed her a small velvet pouch, watching as Belle withdrew the necklace from inside. It was a simple thing, a thin chain of rich rose gold, holding a lone round diamond, the gem glinting even in the soft light of the study. It had taken him a week to link the chain to the precise length he wanted, and even longer to find the bright stone.

Belle held the necklace, taking in the delicate rose links, the sparkle of the diamond, the first she could call her own. As she was exactly a year ago when he'd presented her with her treasured topaz earrings, she was touched into speechlessness by this grand gift. Her eyes stung with tears as she looked up to him.

"It's...you shouldn't have."

Gold shifted his weight, tightened his grip on the cane held before him. He wasn't sure why he felt like this, anxious over her reaction to his gift. They weren't hiding their feelings any longer - they were in love, free and open.

"I know that your other necklace was taken and nothing can replace it, but this is a bit more 'you' than the pearl, I think."

Belle looked up at him, surprised that he'd known of her loss of the necklace and even more surprised that he would care. Her mother's necklace had been a cheap thing, but it'd been one of the few things she'd had left of the woman. She had left it at her father's after Gold brought her into his house during the summer, and after, Moe had taunted her with the necklace, even tried to convince her to use it in his scheme to manipulate his way into Gold's safe.

Belle had no idea what her father had done with her necklace, but she'd tried to put it from her mind. No easy task when she had worn it for years, but she'd had bigger things to worry about than the fate of a single pearl.

That Gold had found her a similar necklace was such a kind gesture. So kind, to attentive and touching that Belle felt tears well in her eyes. "I..."

"It was presumptuous of me. I can switch the diamond for a pearl, if you want."

"No, that's not-"

Gold shifted his weight, thinking on the jewels he had in the shop. "I don't have any whites left."

"You don't need to-"

"I can switch the stone out with either a black or a pink pearl, but of course you'll want a white to match your mother's necklace. I'll find one."

Belle pulled him to her and kissed him full on the mouth, then both cheeks and his forehead. "You don't have to do anything. This necklace, it's...absolutely perfect."

Gold gave her a soft smile. "Oh. Well, I'm glad you like it."

"I got you something too."

"You didn't need to, I have everything I want."

True enough words, now that he was so close to having Belle back in his home.

"Then this is a bonus." Belle urged as she pressed a box into his hands.

Feeling a bit unsettled at taking a gift from her, Gold opened the box to reveal a sleek, modern watch. The round face was black, the numbers and hands inside inlaid with gold. It was a beautiful watch, clearly chosen with care to reflect his formal style, but modern enough to be current.

"It's lovely. Thank you, Belle."

Belle kissed him again, lingering, and gestured to the necklace when they parted. "Put it on me?"

Gold did as she asked, carefully moving her hair over one of her shoulders as he slipped the chain about her throat. He fastened it, then dipped his head to kiss her shoulder before turning her to face him. "This might be my finest work." His eyes were on the jewel, where it fell perfectly just between her collarbones. He looked forward to kissing her there, later.

Belle brought her fingertips to the bezel setting, grazing over the diamond. "You _made_ this?"

He lifted his eyes to hers, away from the gem. "Yes."

"Did you make my earrings last year too?"

Gold nodded. "I did."

"I had no idea." Belle felt a tremor in her throat, moved by the effort he'd put into her gifts, gifts she was sure she didn't deserve.

Love bulged in her chest, love and a sadness so deep, because he would never fully enjoy the winter holiday again. As he'd told her the year before, and just last night, Gold didn't celebrate Christmas. He didn't decorate, put up a tree or spend the day with the few friends he had left. But Belle was special, he'd told her. He loved her, she made him so happy - but no force on earth was strong enough to overcome his memory of the winter he'd lost his world.

Belle understood, and didn't pressure him to come out with her. Gold would be warmly welcomed, he knew, but dark memory kept him chained to the house. He didn't want to spoil her holiday.

"I wanted you to have something unique." Gold said. He thought she looked lovely with his necklace at her throat.

"Now let me return the favor."

Belle strapped the watch securely to his wrist, but she did not release his hand. She held it between her own, lightly squeezing his fingers. Belle looked at him, her broken man, and couldn't help but to ask, "Are you sure you don't want to come out with us? Please, no one should be alone today."

It wasn't right for this man to hide away at home while the rest of the town held their families close and celebrated. She wanted him with her, holding her. She never wanted him to dismiss the memory of his family, but Belle's Christmas wish was for Gold to finally be at peace with his loss.

For one hopeful moment, Belle thought he would agree to come out with her. His expression revealed a strike of longing, but something inside of him closed off, and he took a step back, taking his hand from her to place it on his cane. "I'm...you go ahead. I have things that need to be done here."

Belle nodded, stepping back as well. "If you're sure."

This would take more time, she knew. He had only just been able to speak of his family in the last few months. More time was needed, she couldn't expect him to throw off decades of lonely habit and muster enough holiday cheer to come out with her. The winter was a reminder of all he'd lost.

Belle nodded, then stepped forward and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, a silent offer of comfort should he need it.

Gold held her to him when they parted. Belle felt his hand stroke up and down her back, as much to reassure her as it was meant to soothe himself. Belle willed him to change his mind, to come out of the house with her, surround himself with her - _their_ \- friends and find some happiness in the day.

But it was not to be. Not this year.

Gold drew back from her. "Go. I'll be here when you come back."

She watched as he returned to his desk, intent to work through the day. Rather than turn away, Belle put together a plate of the cookies she'd made for him and, along with tea and milk, she brought the tray into the study.

Gold gave her a soft smile, "I thought you'd left."

She set the tray on his desk and brought a chair over to sit close to him. "Maybe I don't have to leave just yet."

Gold set his work aside and together, they enjoyed the quiet Christmas morning.


	41. Lilies On the Grave

January.

Gold stared at his alarm clock and waited. Three minutes later, the blaring shriek cut into the peaceful silence of his room and he was quick to slam his palm down on the button to stop the noise.

Today was the day.

He took in a breath and heaved it out in a great sigh. He had been melancholy for two weeks now. He had to stop this. It wasn't fair to Belle. He'd already shied away from the Christmas cheer she'd tried to stir in him, and their New Year celebration wasn't much better despite his rallying to the occasion.

Yes, he'd relented to a New Year's Eve party in the EastGate clubhouse, hosted by Shane and Marcus, and tried to fake his way through enjoying the time out in spite of himself. He hadn't wanted to spoil Belle's time with her friends. So he'd painted on a smile, popped champagne for the countdown and kissed Belle, his new beginning, once the ball dropped and a new year began at midnight.

Belle moved beside him now, grumbling unhappily from the shriek of the alarm. "I don't want to get up."

Gold quirked his lips at her. He stood from the bed, then reached under the covers and tickled her feet. Belle laughed and drew her legs up, hunching into herself under the covers. "Stop tickling me! I don't want to leave the bed."

"Neither do I. I would spend all day in bed with you if I could. But today we need to get up." He told her quietly.

"I don't want to." Was the grumble from under the pillows.

"You have to. The library needs you. As a librarian you carry the sacred duty to open the doors and so open a wealth of knowledge to the people of this town."

"You just had to play the library card, didn't you? So underhanded." Belle huffed as she threw back the covers and forced herself out of the warmth and softness that called her name.

Gold shrugged. "I'll make breakfast."

Belle groaned as she stretched and moved into the bathroom. Gold limped into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Once Belle came out to join him, the tea was ready and the honeyed toast was hot on the plate. She sat at the table but noticed that Gold made no move to join her.

"You're not hungry?"

Gold stood away from her, looking out over his backyard. It had snowed again, covering everything in a fresh coat of crisp white. He shook his head. "I'm not eating today."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to the cemetery."

Belle's eyes widened, the piece of toast in her hand half-way to her mouth. She dropped it and stood from the table to approach him. Her hands sought him out, one rising to smooth over the robe that clothed his chest from the January chill, the other ran over his scarred forearm.

"It's today? The fire?"

Gold didn't meet her eyes. "No. The fire was a few days before. Today is the anniversary of when Bae died."

Belle took a step back and Gold finally looked at her. Such a stricken look on her face. Her jaw tensed a few times, false starts, before she found the words to speak. "He didn't...I mean, I thought it was the fire that...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Tears erupted from her eyes, coursing down her cheeks as she began to cry. Gold shook his head and moved to take Belle into his arms, stroking her back and hushing into her hair. "Shh, Belle, please don't cry now. You couldn't have known."

His words couldn't comfort her. No, Belle couldn't have known the depth of the pain that Gold had suffered. That his son hadn't died mercifully on the night of the fire, but that the boy had lingered for days, balancing on the knife's edge of life and death, just doors away from where his father remained in comatose recovery from his injuries.

No, Belle couldn't have known any of it.

She hadn't pushed Gold for the details of what had happened that night and Gold had yet to speak of it. She had let him come to her when he wanted to share a story from his past, their soft talks over his photograph album being so healing for him and so revealing to her. Still, Belle knew so little of what had happened those decades ago.

The man kissed her forehead and looked at her, struggling within to remain strong. He couldn't give in to tears today. He had a promise to keep that came before Belle. "You didn't know, Belle. You couldn't have known because I never told you. It's been decades since this happened and it's still so difficult for me to talk about it."

She swiped at the tears on her face and kept silent. Gold hated this, that she felt helpless in the face of his tragedy. _I shouldn't have told her,_ he thought. _I should have just let her go to work and get on with her day. She didn't need this._

"You've been helping me more than you could ever know. Speaking with you, being with you...you're healing me."

Belle took a gulp of air and spoke, her hands tightening over his. "Let me come with you today. You shouldn't have to go there alone. Please let me come. I'll stay in the car if you want me to, I won't say a word. Please."

She was pleading with him now, but Gold held fast to his resolve. He loved her. He loved her, he loved her, but this wasn't something that Belle could be a part of.

No.

Gold shook his head and moved his hands to cup her face. Their eyes met and held fast to each other, connected despite the secrets he kept to protect himself. "Belle. Please, listen to what I'm saying. This is something I need to do alone."

"What can I do? Tell me, anything."

"No, no." Gold kissed her forehead, then her lips. His heart swelled with love for her and sank with sadness that he could never have it all. "Please. The best thing that you could do for me today would be for you to finish your breakfast and then go to work. Storybrooke needs her library open. Don't think of me today. Be bright and happy, help anyone who comes through your doors. And then, when your shift is over, come back home to see me."

"And then what?"

Gold raised a brow. "Then when we see each other tonight we'll make dinner, watch a movie or TV or you'll read to me - or I can read to you, if you want - and then the night will come and then we'll go to bed. It'll be a normal night for us. That's the best thing I could hope for today. Please, Belle, give me that."

Bright blue eyes searched his, pleading. "You're sure? You're sure, that's all you want from me?"

Gold nodded and lifted her hand to his lips, gave her knuckles a kiss. "Yes."

The woman took a deep breath, resigned to the role he needed her to play this morning. "All right. If that's what you want."

"It's what I need, Belle."

She turned back to the table, slumping into her chair. Her breakfast was cold now, and Belle's appetite had fled.

Gold left her in the kitchen to shower and shave.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Belle had gone, but she had set out his best black suit, shirt and tie.

_________________________________

Gold slipped on a pair of black leather driving gloves and then moved into the driver's seat of his Cadillac. The flowers he intended for today were secured in the passenger seat at his side. The man took a deep breath and set his head back against the headrest of his seat, closed his eyes.

_Go. You can't hide from today._

He took another breath and shook his head, steeling himself. No. He couldn't hide from what had happened. He had to face it as he had every year, no matter the horror and the pain it stirred in his memory.

The Cadillac swept out of his neighborhood and out over the too-familiar path to the church and cemetery near the west edge of Storybrooke. Like everything in town, it was a short drive. Had it not been for his leg, Gold would have walked. He parked and took in the crisp air, thankful for the morning. It was a bright day, not a cloud in the sky. The sun shined down and made the snow blinding at certain angles, but Gold was still glad for it.

This was the kind of snow day that Bae had lived for.

Gold straightened his shoulders and made his way up to the cemetery at the back of the church. He didn't care for the nuns who roosted in the stained-glass temple, their high-handed condescension was enough to set his teeth on edge. Still. He only dealt with them on occasions spread few and far between. They might be inside right now, watching from the windows as he made his limping approach.

Gold cut across a few rows of gravestones of all different sizes and shapes. Statues of weeping angels watched him go on his way.

Gold glanced down and noted the other footprints in the snow. He followed them.

_Third from the bottom of the back. Seven stones in._

Yes, he knew the route by heart.

There it was.

**Baelfire Neal Gold**

**Beloved Son & Friend to All**

Such simple words, and not enough to encompass the loss, but they fit the simple, friendly boy that Bae had been. The man he might have become, what he might have done with his life...those were questions that could never be answered.

Gold swept the gathered snow from the top of Bae's marker.

The man noted the fresh lilies set at the base of Bae's grave just beside the rock engraved with the name **Wee Jock** , the dog who belonged nowhere but at the boy's side. He pictured them in heaven, endless games of fetch and tug-of-war.

Gold touched the delicate white flowers, blending so well with the stark white snow on the ground.

He knew she was close.

He knew where he would find her.

Gold turned from the grave and sought her out.

Mere minutes later, Gold parked the Cadillac just outside of Granny's.

He ignored the scent of food and his stomach's answering growl. _No._ No food or drink today. It was his fast of mourning.

Gold stepped into the diner.

_Oh._

There she was.

Seated in a side booth, an untouched coffee at her side. The woman looked up, locking eyes with him. Gold approached her slowly, ignoring the other customers and Ruby as she greeted him from behind the counter. His eyes were for her, only her.

He stood before her at the edge of the table.

"Hello, Milah."


	42. The Former Mrs Gold

Belle sat in the center of the living room sofa, numb.

Her cellphone rested on the coffee table before her. There was a picture in her phone, now, sent to her from an incensed Ruby.

Gold in the diner with a woman.

**WTF?!**

Ruby's text had accompanied the picture. At first it appeared that he had been caught in something of a compromising position; Gold and the woman were leaning in close over the diner table, and the woman had her hand in Gold's hair, stroking or petting the man, it seemed. The soft expression on Gold's face showed how pleased he was by the touch. Belle knew all too well how he loved touching attention to his hair.

Jealousy and anger had spiked through Belle - a flare of immediate possession that echoed Ruby's demanding question, _Who is this? I'll kill him!_

Belle had zoomed in on the picture and her anger had been overwhelmed by paralyzing shock.

_Is that...? It can't be!_

But it was.

Milah.

Milah Gold, his wife. Bae's mother.

Belle knew the woman, recognized her so easily. How could she not, when she was surrounded by the woman? After Gold had told her about his family, he had hung several pictures about the lower rooms rather than hoard them all in his study.

_O, but he didn't tell you everything, did he? His wife is still alive, how can you trust anything he says?_

Her eyes had hungrily fed on every detail she could from the picture, but Ruby had taken the snap on the sly. Belle couldn't make out much from the image, but what did the details of Milah's looks matter now? The woman was _alive._ That was the bomb dropped into the middle of what Belle had _thought_ she shared with Gold.

She'd thought they were working through this, that in confiding in her, Gold was learning to trust her with the truth of what had made him the man he was now. She'd thought he loved her enough to share his past. She'd thought with her help, he was healing. He'd told her as much. He'd told her she was bringing him back to life.

Had he been lying, then? Had all of it, everything they'd shared since that first night in New York been a lie?

_No._

No, Belle _knew_ he loved her. In that one thing alone, she was sure.

But Milah was alive and Gold had lied to her...or, if he hadn't outright lied then he had ben amazingly evasive with the truth. And just what was the truth of what had happened between them?

 _He_ will _tell me everything._

Belle loved Gold with everything she had but this was too much - she wouldn't let him avoid facing his past this time. She would confront him, demand the truth and fight him for if she had to, but Belle wouldn't spend one more day in the dark.

_After everything, I deserve better than this from him. I deserve the truth._

The woman sighed deeply and went about his house, looking at the pictures he'd placed about the lower level rooms. The family trip to see Milah's brother in the Highlands. The day they'd brought the white puppy home. A visit to the beach at Sandwood Bay.

_"There isn't much I care to share about Milah. She was a part of me, but all that went away after the fire."_

There was precious little that Gold had shared with her in regard to his wife.

_Now I know why._

She moved to sit back on the sofa, and waited for Gold to come home.

It was only a short time later that the woman looked up when she heard him at the door, and she steeled herself.

"Belle, are you in?" He called out.

"I'm in here," she called back to him.

Gold appeared in the entrance to the living room and approached her, his eyes earnest. Without preamble, he sat down beside her on the sofa and said, "I need to talk to you."

"Yes, you do." Belle said, and she showed him the picture, bright and stark on her cell phone screen.

The glow from the screen illuminated his face, and in a way Belle was glad that he didn't appear caught-out. He didn't look guarded or defensive or ready to lie his way out of this. No. The man's eyes appeared soft and full of memory. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out."

He'd said that to her before, when she'd learned of his son.

Belle threw her phone down on the sofa. "Well just how _did_ you want me to find out about this?" She demaned, standing from the sofa and pacing, wanting to put distance between them. She wanted to yell at him, to rant out her frustration. "Milah is _alive!"_

Gold remained sitting on the couch, his voice quiet.

"Yes."

"Milah's been alive all this time, and the two of you have been in touch."

"Yes."

"Has she been living in Storybrooke all this time?"

God, that was a humiliating thought - that Milah had been living in town, watching them start as friends, watching Belle's reputation sink after Gold had brought her into his home, watching them as they'd supposedly grown closer since her birthday...

"No. She lives in London."

"But you knew she was coming here."

Gold nodded, "Yes."

"How long have you known?"

"Twenty years."

Belle rounded on him, "What?"

"We have an understanding." Gold explained. Belle ignored the heaviness in his voice. She was too upset, too ready to demand answers to these new questions. "Ever since it happened, she comes back to Storybrooke every year. Our unhappy anniversary. I always make the arrangements for her to stay in town."

"Where is she staying? Is she coming here?"

"No. Milah hasn't set foot in this house since the night she left. She can't stand it, she's...she's at Granny's Inn, room 214. Her usual room."

"You were going to tell me about her today?"

"Yes." Gold leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright with tears. "You have no reason to believe me now, but I promise you, I was going to tell you about her tonight."

"Why have you waited all this time to tell me?" Belle demanded. "And don't you dare lie or tell me another half-truth. Tell me the full truth, all of it, right now. Why didn't you tell me about Milah?"

"I..." Gold faltered, then closed his eyes and started again. He told Belle the petty, selfish reason he'd kept quiet about Milah for so long. "Before, I didn't tell you about her because I knew any questions you had about her would lead to questions about him and I couldn't talk about that. And then, when things started to change, I didn't want you to think I was still involved with her. You never would have let this happen if you thought I cared for someone else."

Belle stilled, absorbing that. "And do you?" She asked. "Still care about her, I mean?"

"Yes. Of course I care about her. After everything, how could I not?"

"Do you still love her? It's a simple question."

Gold sighed, the world on his shoulders. "The answer is complicated."

"Why is it complicated?"

"Because the question implies that we could have ever stopped loving each other." Gold rubbed his eyes, tired. So tired. "As I said, what's between us...it's complicated."

An arrow pierced Belle's chest. A cold, clawed hand had just pulled the heart from her chest.

"You love her."

Gold stood from the sofa and started toward her. "Belle, please, please let me tell you the truth."

The woman moved away from him. "Why should I? You haven't from the start."

"You've chosen a difficult man to love. But today of all days, please, Belle."

Belle took a seat in one of the chairs across from him, her message clear - she was angry, she didn't want to be touched, but she was willing to listen. "All right. Tell me."

______________________________

"Hello, Milah."

"Hello."

Gold moved into the booth to sit across from her.

They were silent as they looked each other over, assessing, measuring the changes that had taken place since they'd last seen each other the year before. The years separating them seemed to fade, and all at once they were who they had been to each other in the past. Friends, then lovers, husband and wife, and parents to a beloved son. Milah was still beautiful, a few inches taller than him and always slender with tastefully dyed dark hair falling in gentle waves to her shoulders. She wore a high collared blouse, her style of choice since the fire. He knew the collar hid the glint of garnets at her throat, the last birthday gift she'd ever receive from their boy.

Bae had chosen that necklace, while Gold had merely paid for it, and then paid for ice cream during their boys' day out while Milah had gone off to have her hair done in something of a tradition they'd built.

It was a weekend memory Gold treasured, not for himself really, but because Bae had been so proud to have found the perfect gift for his mother. A thin chain of yellow gold with three garnets clustered together. Milah had been too happy to wear the jewels, parading about the house like a queen, though after putting their son to bed she had gently scolded Gold for spending so much on something she didn't need. Gold had dismissed her concern; he could easily afford it, and it had been Bae's choice. Besides, he'd always liked to gift Milah with pretty things, and nothing should be beyond his wife on her birthday.

So long ago, now...

Milah watched him, her eyes a bright toffee brown, nearly matching his own. A perfect match to their son.

"How did you find me?"

"Today's the day." Gold said plainly. Milah always returned, every year. Some years they would see each other, some years they would pass as ships in the night without so much as a glance between them. "I saw the lilies you brought. Game of Thorns?"

Milah nodded, "Yes. The man there recommended them."

Gold stilled at that, wondering at Alan, the man who had taken over the flower shop after Moe's arrest. "You told him what they were for?"

"No. I just asked for something simple, something pretty." Milah shrugged lightly. "He recommended tulips but I saw the lilies on display in the front window. They seemed a better choice."

"Yes. I chose these blue-tipped roses, myself." Gold said, cocking his head toward the roses he'd brought with him from the car. He and Milah would place them on Bae's grave, together, later in the day.

"May I?"

"Of course." Gold handed the bouquet to her, watching as she breathed in their scent. Despite everything, he still hoped for her approval in his choice.

"These are very nice. He would have loved the color." She said, stroking the soft petals of a bloom before setting them on the table. "How have you been?"

"I've been better since we last met. And even better than the time before that."

Milah remembered all too well: it was their meeting two years ago, in her room at Granny's Inn. They'd shared a bottle of cheap whiskey and barely said a word, only holding each other close between drinks throughout the night. Pure misery.

"You're still keeping the house."

"Yes."

"I would have thought you'd want to move by now."

Gold shook his head. "No, no. I can't give up the house. You know why."

"I do."

A somber moment passed between them.

Ruby appeared and Gold ordered nothing for himself, but a buttery croissant for Milah. He'd always thought she was too thin, and so much thinner in the winter. She often skipped meals when she felt depressed. This time of the year would forever be hard on them both. As she had fought to pull him from his addiction, he had fought to free her from the eating disorder she'd developed. They were both so broken after the fire, love was all that could save them but they couldn't save each other.

"So, what are you doing back in the States, Milah?"

"I'm on assignment, actually. There's a movie being filmed a few towns over. Some low-budget thriller about a pair of bank robbers. Direct to DVD, I'm sure. It seems Fate played its hand in bringing me stateside this time of the year. I'll be in Storybrooke for a few days before I go back to work on location."

Gold was so pleased for her, his wife was a master of her craft. "And Killian? Is he here with you?"

Milah had met a new man ten years before, and had introduced him to Gold when they had reconnected for Bae's anniversary. At first, Gold had been angry with her for bringing an outsider to share in their remembrance; he had ever been a jealous man and did not want to share the tragedy. However, in time, Gold had grown content to know that Milah had found a measure of closure and happiness for herself. Killian had come into the relationship with children of his own, two teenage daughters and a son just entering college at the time.

From the outside, Milah had found a new family while Gold had been left alone in the world, but he had never been bitter toward her; Gold remained steadfast in the belief that he deserved the life he had after failing his family.

Belle had changed everything.

"He's good. We're all good. Dan got married this summer, they're expecting already. The girls are doing well, Katie just went off to Mexico for a vacation and Stephanie's opened a restaurant in Dover, it's a bit like this diner, actually. Killian is thinking about retiring in the next few years. He understands why I still come here." Milah said the last in a quiet tone.

"It sounds as if things are going well for all of you. I'm glad."

"Are you?"

Gold reached across the table and took her hands into his. "Yes. I never wanted anything but your happiness, you know that."

She nodded. "I know. It was the same for me. Did you and Cora ever reconnect?"

Milah had met the other woman a time or two, and liked her well enough though their meetings had only been brief. She'd held hope that he would find happiness for himself, as she had.

Gold shook his head, thinking back to he and Cora's final parting. "She and I...no. These days I'll hear how she's doing through Regina, but I haven't seen her in several years."

"I'm sorry. I thought she could have been good for you."

"Things were good between us in the start, but she wanted marriage. Another child, maybe more children after that. I wasn't ready."

Milah stroked his hands, "And now? Could you see yourself remarrying?"

Gold wasn't sure how to answer that. He thought of Belle. He wanted a new life with her, but insecurity clawed at him. "Sometimes I worry that ship has sailed, Milah."

The woman tilted her head, "Why would you say that? You're hardly ancient, they say early 50s is the new mid-30s."

He laughed, "I don't know who says that but I rather think that you look better for your age than I ever did."

Here, Gold wasn't trying to flatter or flirt; the plain fact of it was that Milah was still a beautiful woman. Age, the flames and the weight of their tragedy had left their mark but Killian and his children had been her saving grace for the last decade. Gold had not been quite so fortunate, but there was one great bright spot in his life now, and it showed in his eyes whenever he thought of her.

"Don't be that way," she reached across the table and stroked his hair, petting him in the way he'd always loved. "Yours is still my favorite face, you know."

Gold sighed fondly. She had always told him that when he said something self-deprecating.

"Still, after all this time?"

Milah smiled, then. Her first smile since she had crossed into Storybrooke. "Always."

"I do...have someone." Gold confessed. It was perhaps unwise to discuss Belle with his wife, but there was no one else he could speak with about this. He could trust Milah, and besides, a woman's perspective was always useful.

She nodded, encouraged that he was not as alone as she'd feared. "Tell me."

"She works at the library, we met when she helped me with some books. We just started talking and it grew from there." He was leaving out so much, purposefully over-simplifying the hard road that he and Belle had taken to love.

"Ah, and where do you see it going?" Milah asked, her eyes intrigued. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed his hand, encouraging him to tell her more. After everything they'd been to each other, all they'd shared and lost, Milah only wanted him to be happy.

Gold squeezed her fingers in return. "I can see a future with her. She...I wasn't looking for love when we met but I started to care for her. I couldn't help it, I thought I could just be content with having a friend but the longer we knew each other, the more I knew I wanted her. And through some miracle, she wanted me too."

Milah wondered about the woman in his life, what she looked like, who she was. "She sounds nice."

"She is. She's funny and creative and...complicated."

"Complicated?" That wasn't what she'd expected.

Gold nodded. "She's had a difficult home life, her family is...they're no family at all, but she's overcome that. She has a strength I admire. She was my friend for over a year before things between us changed."

"You love her, then?" Milah asked.

"Very much." Gold nodded. He thought of the banter, the long talks he'd shared with Belle. Very soon, he would need to share Milah with her. The time for secrets was over. "She's sharp, but she's also so kind. She can see the good in people...and when it's not there, she has a way of creating it. She's made the house feel like a home again."

"Is she pretty?" Milah prodded, enjoying the light in his eyes. Love had always looked good on him.

"She's beautiful!"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, come on, I love you too much to be jealous of someone who's making you happy." Milah reassured him.

Gold smiled at her, "You are wonderful, have I ever told you that?"

"Never often enough, love." Milah joked playfully. "So, why not marry her?"

Gold clenched his jaw, "I'm not as I was, Milah. Over the years I've become...I can be cruel to people. I've gained a reputation in town that's well-earned. I've gotten better since she's been in my life but I don't know that I can be all she deserves. I feel that I'm...damaged goods."

Milah shook her head at that. "You know I felt the same way with Killian. I didn't think I deserved to be happy. I didn't think I deserved anything. Neither of us will ever be the same after Bae, but you need to forgive yourself and move on to something, something to make you happy or at least not so lonely. I know you better than anyone, I can see how lonely you've been all this time, how tired you've been for all these years. This Belle, if she makes you feel anything, then I think she's worth everything. You just said that you admire her strength. Trust her to be strong enough to choose you. All of you."

"Thank you." He took her hand his and kissed her knuckles, then pressed her hand to his cheek.

She said his name.

"Hmm?"

"Killian has asked me to marry him."

Gold released her hand. "Oh, has he, now?"

"Yes. He figured that we've been carrying on like a married couple all this time, and with his children secure and starting their own lives, it's our turn. With my father gone...I want your blessing."

Gold felt humbled by her request, and he knew what else she needed from him. After all this time, he would give her anything. "Milah...you have it."

"Then I'll also need your signature."

Milah reached to a folder on the booth bench beside her. Gold's outright refusal had never been a possibility; she knew he only wanted her happiness and the life she'd built with Killian had made her as happy as Milah could have ever hoped to be after what they had lost.

She rested the folder before him, watching as Gold flipped it open and saw the document title.

**Petition for Divorce.**

The words stood out to him in stark black and white.

Milah had already prepared her portion of the document. It would be a clean break, the dissolution of their legal connection and so freeing Milah to go off and marry Killian whenever arrangements could be made. Gold took a deep breath. He knew this was for the best, and what did it matter now, really?

In the broken years following Bae's death, Gold and Milah had been many things to each other, but husband and wife hadn't been one of them. No, no, they'd been vicious, bitter enemies and caretakers tending to each other's injuries and shoulders to cry on and furious, sorrowful lovers - but all they had been to each other before had been lost on the death of their son.

Baelfire had died, and in a very real sense, Gold and Milah had died with him.

_We only survived that night, but Milah found a new life. I need to know she'll be happy._

Gold clicked his pen and held it poised over the signature line. He raised a brow to his wife, a sly look coming over his face. "You know my price."

"That old thing?"

"I just want to see it. Please, Milah. It's been so long."

"Sign that, and I'll let you have it back."

"You don't want it anymore?"

"It's not that. After this, I won't need it anymore. I already have you, right here."

She touched the three garnets hidden beneath the collar of her shirt. Bae had been so proud to give her that necklace; on opening her gift, the boy had declared the two garnets on either side of the center stone to represent Milah and Gold, with Bae's garnet secure between them.

Milah knew he remembered, and her heart felt lighter seeing him again. She'd meant what she told him: his was her favorite face. He had been her best friend while they'd been mates in school and as they'd grown up and grown closer it had been beyond natural to be together, to marry and start a family.

Milah had loved him so deeply and a large part of her still did. A piece of her always would. Gold held a piece of her heart that Killian could never touch.

It was the intense strength of their love that had ultimately broken them. Perhaps if they'd been the kind of people whose ardor and interest had cooled over the course of their marriage, they might have just divorced after the fire and never spoken again. Instead they had suffered and struggled and hurt each other terribly for over a year before finally parting ways.

Gold had stayed in Storybrooke, Milah had returned home.

The woman returned every winter to lay flowers on her son's grave. In the years before Killian had come into her life, she and Gold would find themselves in her room at Granny's Inn, embracing pain and regret as they drank and fucked all through the night, only to wake in the morning feeling equal measures of emptiness and misery.

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You do, yes. And you know this doesn't change anything. I'm here for you, whatever you need. You know that."

She rolled her hand beneath his, lacing their fingers. "I know. Thank you. You know I'll be there for you, too."

Gold took a deep breath and signed his name.

There. It was done.

They were Mr. and Mrs. Gold no longer.

"Well, Milah. You're a free woman now. Are you going to go party in Vegas, drink cosmos with your girlfriends?"

She smiled lightly at his joke, then reached to the collar of her shirt and pulled her necklace up. There, secured on the thin chain, was the family. Two small garnets on either side of a larger, central stone. Gold and Milah, with their son forever between them.

Also dangling from the necklace chain were two rings.

Milah's engagement ring and his wedding band.

Her own band had had to be cut from her finger to treat her burns. She had never replaced it.

Gold watched as she removed their rings and reclasped her necklace, tucking it back into the collar of her blouse. He took up his wedding band, an undecorated ring of yellow gold. Milah had kept it for him all these years, he'd given it to her the night she'd left him.

Such a simple thing it was.

Women always wore pieces special to them - Belle wearing her mother's necklace for so many years came to mind - and men were perhaps no different. He'd missed his ring after giving it over to Milah. He'd still felt the imprint of it on his finger months after she'd gone away.

Gold turned it over and over again, then slipped it onto his finger. He looked at the gold returned to his skin. "Hmm. It still fits. I didn't expect that."

Milah quirked her lips and went on watching him.

Gold turned his attention to her engagement ring. He remembered talking to Milah's father, Frank. The arrogant older man had had Milah later in life and held that girl as his crown jewel, and impressed upon him that Milah deserved no less from the man she chose as her husband.

Gold had promised Frank and Gail, Milah's parents, that he would do everything in his power to make Milah happy.

For a while, he had kept that promise.

He'd saved his wages to buy Milah the perfect ring, the ring to show his determination and commitment to be the right man for her. To be her husband, the father of her children, the one to secure her future and their family...

Gold blinked away the rise of his tears at the memories, the bitterness and the horrible, horrible things they'd said to each other after returning to that empty house.

It was yellow gold, tiny diamonds surrounding a round cut emerald. At the time, it'd been all he could afford. Even after Milah had said yes and even after they were married, he'd promised to buy her a better ring. She'd always laughed and discouraged him from that; what did she need with a new ring when they were married, when they were planning their big move to the States, when they were building their home, when she was pregnant, when their son was born? A new ring meant nothing to Milah.

"It still fits me, too." Milah said quietly. "I always put it on during our anniversary. Just for the day. Killian never notices."

Gold nodded. "No use for it anymore, eh?"

"You know a ring never meant much to me. I had you. Then we had him. I never wanted anything else."

"Neither did I." Gold said quietly. He turned the ring over in his hands a few times and wondered, "What am I to do with this now?"

"You could give it to Belle."

Gold snorted, "In a bit of bad taste, don't you think?"

Milah nodded and tucked her hair behind what remained of her ear. "You're right, I forgot about that. Might make a nice pinky ring for you."

"Very fashionable."

"Well, you've become a much better dresser since we split up." Milah winked at him, her playful habit. "If you don't plan to wear it you could just sell it."

"I don't need the money."

"Donate it, then. Or take apart the gems and use them to restore one of your pieces the way you did with that Russian cameo brooch you told me about." She suggested.

Gold waffled in indecision. "I'll keep it and then make up my mind later. I'll think of something."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. You were always the clever one."

"I had to be clever, it was the only way to get you to slow down and notice me." Gold reminded her. "Do you still play?"

"Not too much, but every once in awhile I'll play in with a football club that meets in the park near our flat."

Gold quirked his lips at her phrasing. "Your 'flat'. God, I can't believe you still prefer England to Scotland."

"Oh, don't start that with me. The whole world prefers London over Glasgow. Besides, London is home now. Just like you've kept Storybrooke as your home. Unless you plan on going back."

"No. For a visit, maybe, and even then, I'd only go back if Belle came with me. But you're right. Storybrooke is my home."

Milah nodded and reached across the table to touch his hand again, touching him where he still wore his old ring. "I know why you stayed, but I'm so glad that you've found someone here."

"So am I. God, you have no idea-"

"I have _some_ idea, remember?"

"Yes, yes, of course you're right. As you are in all things, dear."

Milah laughed at that and after a moment Gold joined her. Two former spouses, two lifelong friends finding laughter in each other on the anniversary of the greatest tragedy they had ever known.

They parted ways some time later.

After seeing Milah back to her room, Gold went to his shop both to work and to think on his past and the future he wanted to build.

_______________________________

Gold finished, and waited for Belle to speak. Somehow, in the course of his story, he'd made his approach to Belle, kneeling before her, resting his hand on her knee, his eyes pleading.

"Get out."

He blinked, heart sinking. "What?"

"Get. Out."

Gold reached for her hands, desperation rising in him. He couldn't lose her, not like this. "Belle, no, please-"

The woman tore herself away from him, leaving him kneeling before an empty chair. "No! You know I never would have pushed you for anything, I would have listened if you could have just _told me the truth_ but instead you've been sitting on this secret, letting me think you'd lost everything-"

"We did lose everything!" Gold managed to stand, though inside he was breaking. "You can't understand - we lost each other when we lost Bae, and we could never find our way back."

His words were savage with pain and Belle bit her lip, because God, she was _hating_ this, hating that he'd hurt her with his secret but hating that his past had ripped him apart even more.

She might have backed down from her anger with him, her hurt, but no. Gold's tragedy didn't excuse keeping her in the dark about something so important, so fundamental to his past. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

"I know. I didn't mean it like that...I just...I need some time. And I need it alone." _Stand strong,_ Belle urged herself. _He lied. He lied, he lied, he lied!_

"Belle, please, we can-"

The woman drew back from him, crossing her arms before her chest. "No, don't touch me. Please, I need you to go. Just go. Now!"

Gold's hopes deflated and he dropped his hand down to his side. Belle didn't want him anywhere near her tonight. He deserved this pain. He'd earned it in spades. The man had made remarkable strides in opening himself to her, but Milah was too great a secret to forgive so easily.

Gold obeyed her and left his home, walking out into the winter night.

The tears tracing down his cheeks matched those of the woman he'd left within the lonely walls.


	43. Ghosts

Gold dragged himself through the crisp blanket of snow coating Storybrooke.

His gait, uneven on his best day, was slow and crooked and broken.

So too was his spirit.

_I hurt Belle. Again. God. The one thing I promised I wouldn't do. ___

Gold reached the corner and blinked, wondering where to go now. He couldn't go home. Belle had ordered him away from her.

_"I need some time. And I need it alone." ___

No.

He knew when he wasn't wanted and Belle sure as all hell didn't want him anywhere near her now. He would respect the woman's wishes.

Gold wouldn't be returning home tonight. The wind blew hard against him, the salted tracks on his cheeks were burning his skin. The man sighed. His options in Storybrooke were limited. He could take a room at Granny's, which wasn't ideal. He could stay the night with Milah in her room, but doing so would only hurt Belle further - he'd sleep in the snow before he forced more heartache on her. Gold patted his pocket. He had the key to Belle's apartment, but the man had more sense than to intrude on her private space now.

This left him with one option.

Gold sighed and started off down the street once more.

______________________________

The woman, the closest thing he had to family now, opened the door. There was a smile on her lips but her eyes were guarded to his sudden appearance here.

"Gold."

"Evening, Regina."

"Haven't seen you in awhile. What brings you by?" She asked. It was true, Gold had not been to see her in some time. These last two weeks or so, Gold had largely withdrawn from Storybrooke, Belle being his only company. The man had only stepped out for a night to ring in the New Year with Belle and her friends, but other than that Gold had let his depression, this darkness he couldn't escape, rule over him.

"I haven't...do you mind if I take a guest room for the night?"

Regina stepped aside to let Gold into the house. "Of course. You know you don't need to ask that." She reminded him. Regina's eyes widened as Gold stepped into the lights of the foyer and she could see the despair in his eyes. "What happened? Why do you need to stay here?"

Gold took in a shuddering breath. He was on the verge of more tears already but wouldn't let himself break down sobbing before her. "I...I just...Regina, could I trouble you for a drink?"

Ever the dutiful hostess, Regina ushered him into one of the side rooms that they often favored when they met up for a classic round of scheming. The man sank into the buttery leather of her sofa and put his head in his hands, just breathing, trying to clear his mind.

_There's no more hiding from the past. I'll go to Belle, tell her all of it, every last horrible piece of it._

It had not been his intention to mislead Belle, he truly had meant to tell her of Milah and what had happened between them after the fire and in all the years following...it had been his hope to tell Belle his story one chapter at a time. He'd not wanted to overwhelm her with his full past told at once. He'd also not wanted to relive it all at once for his own sake. But that was Gold, in the end.

_Coward._

"Here we are. Your favorite."

Regina returned and slipped an icy whiskey into his hand, her preferred vodka cranberry set before her as she took a seat on the sofa directly across from him.

"Thank you, Regina." Gold took a sip and sighed at the liquor burned its way down his throat. He could feel the heat of it pool in his belly. "God. I needed this." He pressed the cold glass to his forehead, hoping the cool of it would suppress his headache. Stupid hope. Nothing would help.

Regina watched him, concerned. Yes, she and Gold were locking horns more often than not, but he meant the world to her. Something had happened to upset him, and Regina would do all in her considerable power to help. "Gold. Talk to me. What's happened?"

"I've done a terrible thing to Belle."

Regina raised her brows, "Do you need help hiding the body?"

"Jesus, Regina!" Gold stood and began pacing behind the sofa. "Now's not the time for your jokes."

"Look, if she's still alive then there's no need to be so melodramatic. You two have your first big lover's quarrel?"

"Something like that, yeah." Gold sighed heavily, nodding.

She leaned forward, beckoning him to retake his seat. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't want to talk about anything. I never have." The man moved around and once again sat before her. "But there's no choice now. I can't keep my secrets any longer."

Regina stilled. She knew a few pieces of his past, just as she knew what this time of the year meant to him. "No, you can't. Come on, Gold. We're family - or, as close to family as we have at hand, anyway. Talk to me. You never know, maybe I can help. If nothing else, talking may make you feel better."

"I don't deserve to feel better. I'm not the one hurting. It's Belle. I've made her suffer for my past. Again. God, that woman would be happier without me." He muttered. He tried to picture a life for Belle without him in it, a life where she would be free of his failings, a life where she could find a man to love who wasn't-

Gold stopped his thoughts there. The idea of Belle with another man was enough to clench his heart in a silent, pained scream. _No!_

"I know you're hurting. You have been for years. There were times when I could see it, even when you were with my mother - I could tell that you were trying so hard to pretend you were happy. I think she could see it but she was pretending too. Being with Belle has changed you." Regina smiled at him. "Belle loves you more than anything, I've seen it myself. And you love her. Please, what happened?"

Gold took a deep breath.

"Today...it's the anniversary of Bae's death. Milah's come to see our boy's grave as she does every year. I never...Regina, I never told Belle about Milah. I couldn't. All this time, Belle thought she'd died in that fire. One of her friends saw us together and sent a picture. I was going to tell Belle about Milah tonight, I swear I was, but it doesn't matter now. Belle was so upset, so hurt. She doesn't want me anywhere near her."

"Wow. She kicked you out of your own house. That's a woman I can respect." Regina scoffed. "After keeping Milah a secret from her I'd be surprised if she hasn't thrown bleach on all your suits or set your bed on fire."

Gold glared at her. "Your compassion is heartwarming, I'm truly touched."

Regina shook her head, properly chastised. He was right, it was unkind of her to tease when he was so obviously hurting today of all days. "Listen to me. Belle is angry with you, yes, as she should be. Any woman would be upset to find out you've been hiding your wife all this time. She probably feels betrayed, lied to, made a fool of...but I have to believe that she'll be open to listening if you can just be open to talking about it. That's always been your problem, Gold. You couldn't talk to my mother and look where that got you."

Gold hung his head, knowing full well that Regina was right. For so long he'd been unwilling to speak of his past, keeping the tragedy to himself and pushing away his every chance at happiness...until Belle found him. And he was so desperate to feel happiness again, so desperate to build a life apart from tragedy, but how can a man separate himself from the horrible past? How can he find balance?

"It's nothing easy to talk about."

Regina reached across the table between them and took his hand into hers, anchoring his focus to her. "I know it's not. It never will be, Gold. I know it was the most horrible thing to ever happen to you. I think of what you've been through and I honestly don't think I could have gone on if it'd happened to me, if it'd been Henry that died."

"I hope you never have to find out for yourself. No parent ever should."

"You're a stronger man than you think, Gold. It takes strength to go on after something like that. What happened to you...it was awful, unfair and wrong. But it happened, and nothing can change it. You haven't been truly happy since it happened, but you have a real chance for it now. Belle loves you. I've seen it. She lights up when she sees you. But make no mistake, Gold. If you don't find her tomorrow and tell her _everything_ then you may not get another chance with her."

Gold was silent, thinking on her words. Regina saw a tear track down his cheek. She'd only seen him upset once, so long ago when he'd first told her of the son he'd lost. They hadn't spoken of his past since that day, but then, why would they?

They knew where they stood with each other.

"It wasn't strength that got me through." He said quietly.

"What was it, then?"

"His memory. I dragged on through life so I could keep him alive in memory, but in never speaking of him, all I've done is force him to be forgotten by everyone but Milah and I. Before French broke into the shop, the only ones who knew of him could be counted on one hand - Milah, Dr. Hopper, Cora and you."

"And now Belle. You told Belle about your son, that has to mean something." She urged him.

"It means everything. I should go to her now-"

"No, no. Trust me in this. Belle needs to be alone now. She can't stay angry all night. Leave her alone, just give her space. Let her sleep, then test the waters tomorrow."

"And if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Then give her more time, and try again. It's all you can do."

Gold rubbed his face, pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate this. If I was stronger I could have faced this sooner, saved Belle this heartache."

Regina squeezed his fingers, "Gold, please stop. You're not weak because it's still so difficult for you to face this. What happened to you...it doesn't matter if it was twenty years ago or twenty minutes. You've lived on as best you could, but you've lived on alone. You don't know how to talk about this because you've never told anyone the whole story, have you?"

"No." Gold breathed a deep sigh. "Only Milah knows it all."

"Do you know if she ever told anyone?"

"I don't know. We've lived separate lives since she left me. I don't even know how much she's shared with Killian."

Regina nodded. "I only know what you've told me and I can stay satisfied with that, because I know where I stand with you. I don't have any right to know more than you're comfortable with telling me. Belle is different. She deserves to know everything because she deserves to know you. All of you."

"I know. I want her to know me, I just...I didn't want her to know the darkest parts. Not yet. I wanted to tell her about Bae on my own. I would have told her about Milah, but I lost sight of things. You know how I am this time of the year. Things sort of fade and blur together until the day comes and I see Milah again. And that's when I know things will be all right, because we've made it through another year, we've kept our boy alive in memory. Then we separate and start the year over again."

Regina knew of Gold's winter depression, his habit of hiding away from the world. The previous year he'd gone away to Sunshire for a time, needing the change of scenery before returning to meet with Milah and then, after seeing Milah away, reuniting with Belle and Regina and the rest of Storybrooke itself.

"I should have told Belle sooner, but today was for Milah and I to remember our son alone. It always has been. It always will be."

"You just need to talk to Belle, Gold. She loves you. She'll listen. Aren't you tired of hiding from her?"

"Yes." Gold swiped at his eyes. "I will tell her. I'll tell her everything. All of it. Even ask if Milah would want to meet her, if that's what it takes to have her trust me again. I can't go on like this. I need Belle."

"Yes. And she needs you to be honest." Regina finished for him. "Now, come on. I'll set you up in a guest room, you'll get some sleep and in the morning you'll go home and then you two lovebirds will work it out. It'll hurt and it'll be messy, but it's what needs to be done."

______________________________

Awareness returned to Gold all at once as he was jolted awake by the sudden weight that landed just beside him in bed.

"Hey, Mr. Gold!"

In a rush, everything returned to him. Bae. Milah. Belle. Regina. And now here he was, in one of Regina's guest rooms. Gold yawned loudly and gave a crooked smile to the boy as he rolled onto his back to face him. Gold hadn't slept more than a few hours, but he didn't show any irritation to Henry. The boy, with his dark hair and eyes, his energetic and inquisitive nature was so similar to Bae that Gold often viewed Henry as a strange second chance at fatherhood; and very strange it was, given that Regina was nearly his stepdaughter, all those years ago. Gold had been close with Regina all throughout the boy's life, serving as the only father figure Henry had ever known.

God knew Henry's true father wouldn't be coming round to take up with the boy anytime soon. Gold had made damn sure of that.

"Morning, Henry."

Henry squatted near him on the bed, bouncing slightly. All that energy and far too early in the morning. "I didn't know you stayed over."

Gold sat up to face him and cleared his throat. "Yes, I...I was working late with your mother and I got too tired to go home."

Before Belle, it had not been an uncommon occurrence that Gold would take a guest room in the mayoral mansion. Neither Regina nor Gold had cared about any gossip that might have been stirred over their relationship, and Henry had never seemed in any way troubled about it either.

"Are you staying for breakfast? Mom promised she'd let me make scrambled eggs!"

Gold wanted to get home as soon as he could, but Henry looked so hopeful, so proud and eager to prove himself. Gold was a monster, but even monsters had their soft spots.

"Ah...yes, of course I'll stay."

Then, the man suddenly lunged at Henry and put him into a headlock, using his free hand to rough up the boy's hair. Downstairs, Regina woke to the sounds of Henry's screaming laughter.

______________________________

Barely an hour later, Henry was beaming with pride to see that Mr. Gold had cleaned his plate. Regina had joined them in the kitchen, clucking about their rough-housing so early in the morning, and oversaw the boy as he'd carefully beat eggs in a bowl and poured them into a frying pan. Carefully, Henry had taken the pan off the stove and put the eggs on plates with toast. A simple, filling breakfast that had satisfied the man and woman who had looked over him all his life.

"Henry that was delicious." Gold told him. "You could be a chef!"

"Really? I want to be a pro football player but I like to cook too, so maybe I could be both." Henry said in between gulps of his milk.

"You can be whatever you want, Henry." Regina said as she moved to take their plates.

"I'd be the first to cheer for you if you signed on to the Rangers. I'd be at every match. How's the football practice coming?"

"I'm getting really good! Want to see?"

Gold glanced at the clock, seeing it was barely 8:30 now. He needed to see Belle, but he hadn't seen Henry in weeks; what time he could spend with the boy was a balm to his soul. Gold could never again play with his son, but he could play with Henry and that was as close as he would ever get. He glanced to Regina, who nodded back to him, understanding his want to cling to this simple happiness before the confrontation that lay ahead in the day.

"Of course." Gold agreed.

The boy smiled, but his mother was quick to remind him, "Henry, don't keep Mr. Gold for too long, all right? He has a lot of work to do today."

"Okay, mom." He then ran off to find his coat and ball, a tornado at barely five feet tall.

Gold sipped at his coffee. "Thank you for letting me stay over, Regina."

"This is your home too, you know that. Thank you for playing with him. I know it can't be easy for you." Regina said gently.

He sighed lightly, listening to Henry stomp around upstairs. "He reminds me so much of Baelfire, but I know it's not him. He's a good lad, Regina. You should be proud."

"I am proud. You should be too."

Gold returned her smile just as Henry bound his way back into the kitchen and barreled out to the backyard. The man nodded to Regina and followed after Henry, who'd made his way into the center of the large yard, a brown football clutched in his hands. Gold frowned at the sight of it.

"Oh. You meant _that_ kind of football."

The boy looked at the ball in confusion. "Huh?"

"Nothing." Gold shrugged. "It's just that sometimes I forget football means a different sport in America but it's just as well, I couldn't chase a proper football about with you anyway. No matter, we can still do a catch."

Gold gestured for Henry to throw the ball to him, which he did. Gold caught it and then threw it back to him. From there, Gold and Henry began an easy game of catch as Regina cleaned up in the kitchen.

Distracted as she was, between her cleaning and her watching the boys play in the yard, Regina didn't see Belle as she passed in front of the house, the young woman's stride swift and determined, headed back toward Storybrooke, intent to find answers.

______________________________

After waking alone in Gold's house, in their bed, Belle had stared at the ceiling for several minutes as she thought over what she'd learned the night before.

_Milah is alive. She's alive and he never told me._

She couldn't understand why Gold had kept quiet about his wife, but she supposed she might never fully understand him or his motivations. How could she, with all he'd been through? Belle's trouble with her parents paled in comparison to what he had suffered...but this wasn't a contest of pain.

This was their lives, and the life they were trying to lead together. She had been angry with him the night before, and hurt, but time had cooled her temper. The hurt remained, however. It hurt her deeply to know that Gold still felt the need to hide pieces of his past from her - she'd thought his revelation of the fire and how he felt he'd failed his family, his guilt, to be the greatest of his secrets.

Why keep Milah secret? What was he hiding?

After a time, Belle threw back the covers and emerged from his bedroom. She wondered if he'd come back sometime late in the night and slept in a different room, perhaps the blue room he'd given her upstairs. Belle dismissed the idea. Gold knew her well enough to keep his distance after she'd warned him away.

She moved into the kitchen and looked out to the backyard, a perfect blanket of white. Belle liked the snow, how clean it made everything look. She'd planned to throw snowballs at Gold when his mood improved, entice him to play with her, show her the silly boy he still was on the inside.

She wanted him back, she wanted to reach inside this quiet, melancholy shell he'd been and pull the real Gold back out again. But it had been the anniversary of his son's death just the day before and with the revelation of the date that Baelfire had died, Gold had also shed light on the fact that his son had not died in the fire. No, no, Gold had said it himself, the fire had happened days before the day of his son's death.

How horrible. How God-awful and cosmically unfair, that Baelfire had lingered for days after the fire.

And just how did Baelfire die? Was Gold with him when it happened? Was Milah? Did mother and father have the chance to say goodbye or was Bae so far gone that he'd died when treatments or surgery failed?

So many questions and too few answers. Belle sighed and pushed her hair from her eyes. She wanted to know everything that had happened, but she wasn't sure she had a right to even ask at a time like this. Yesterday of all days, she shouldn't have pushed him away.

_I can't take that back, but we will make things right between us._

Belle redressed herself in the outfit she'd worn yesterday and left a note for him. She was going back to her apartment for a shower and to change her clothes. She needed to feel refreshed, secure.

It was a quick walk back to her apartment, and when she stepped inside she'd half-expected to find Gold inside waiting for her. On opening the door and calling out his name, she was slightly disappointed to find it empty, but more relieved. She needed more time to herself, she needed some peace and quiet before she faced Gold and Milah and asked what had happened between them these last twenty years.

Belle took a quick shower and dressed for the day, a black sweater dress with black tights and her heeled booties with gold buckles. She wrapped a cream scarf about her neck and drew on her red coat. She blowdried her hair into a shining wave down her back and applied her makeup like she was going to war.

In a way, she was. Belle was going to war with Gold's past - she was going to fight for him. She was going to win.

______________________________

From her apartment, Belle headed toward Granny's diner. This being Storybrooke, there were only a handful of places that either Gold or Milah could be - she figured that the diner was the best place to start, and in any case she wanted to see Ruby.

Her lanky friend approached her the second Belle slid onto a barstool. There was no small-talk greeting, Ruby was far too direct for that. "Did you talk to Gold?"

Belle wasn't in any mood to hedge her words either. She needed to keep herself sharp this morning - she would need to be open and clear for the day. "Yes. That woman was Milah."

Ruby nearly dropped her coffee pot. "His wife?! She's _alive?"_

"Yes."

"I had no idea!"

Belle shrugged. "Yeah, well, neither did I."

"He kept that from you?" Ruby's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill him!"

Belle shook her head, "Don't start with that. You know what he's been through. He hasn't told me the whole story but I know he had his reasons for not telling me about her before last night." Belle reached across the counter and took her friend's hand. "Please promise me you won't say anything to him about this."

Ruby frowned and huffed a breath. No one had been more surprised than her to find that Gold could be so likable; she knew he loved Belle and would do most anything for her, and aside from that the man had excellent taste in fashion, liquor and food with a wicked sense of humor, but damn it, what had Gold been _thinking?_

"You're lucky no one else noticed them yesterday." Ruby remarked, backing down. "If Shane and Marcus saw them you know they would have dragged Gold out of here by his hair."

"I know, and I love them for it. And you, too. I know you're just looking out for me."

Ruby shrugged, "What are friends for?"

Belle smiled at that and Ruby went on, "So, what are you going to do?"

"He told me about her last night, that she left to go live in London but that she comes back every year on the anniversary of when their son died." Belle cleared her throat. "I was angry and hurt with him for keeping this from me, I told him I wanted space last night and I haven't seen him since."

Ruby raised a brow, "Where do you think he went?"

"I don't know. He didn't take a room, did he?" Belle asked. If Gold had taken a room at Granny's, Ruby would have been the first to hear of it from her grandmother.

"No, no. He isn't here."

"I thought he might have gone to my apartment but he wasn't there."

"Belle, you don't think...?"

Ruby let the question hang, silent, knowing what that Belle would pick up on what she was asking. _You don't think he would have gone back to stay with Milah?_

Belle shook her head. "No. God, if he did that I'd kill him myself."

Ruby smiled at that, all teeth. "That's my girl."

"I'm going to see Milah."

It was a plain declaration that surprised her friend.

"You are? How?"

Belle smiled a little. "It'll be easy. Last night he told me which room she's staying in. 214."

"214?" Ruby thought on that. "That room's always been reserved."

"Yes. He's kept that room for Milah every year she comes back for their remembrance."

Ruby looked at her friend and took a deep breath, sensing the impending confrontation on the horizon. To her eyes, Belle appeared calm and determined. Things had changed so much for her friend in the last year or so, and Ruby could see the changes in her. Belle was happier and more sure of herself, love had made her stronger. She would need that strength for what lay ahead.

"You seem to have a plan in mind. I hope you know what you're doing."

Belle took a breath and moved off the barstool, steeling herself. "I guess we'll find out."

______________________________

With a final look to Ruby at the door, Belle stepped out of the diner. She stood just outside the front entrance for a minute, breathing in the frigid air. Maine in January. She remembered coming to America when she was a child, how they'd arrived here in the winter and the shock of snow that seemed to go on forever.

The woman took a deep breath and gathered her courage, then turned and headed around toward the inn. Belle tucked her hands into her pockets as the wind picked up. There was no guarantee that Milah would be in her room - the woman could be anywhere in Storybrooke. It was even possible that she and Gold had met up again to talk, or perhaps they'd returned to their son's grave.

That was a sobering thought.

For so long, Belle had only thought of Gold as a single entity. He was wholly and completely alone. She'd had to teach herself to think of him as a father, not giving much thought of the man as a husband to this other woman, this Milah. From the start, Gold had diverted her from asking after his wife and even after she'd learned of the tragedy of his past, Gold had never wanted to speak much of Milah.

It can't have only been for the reason he'd said, that he'd wanted to keep Milah a secret so he could pursue their relationship.

No.

Belle knew him better than that. Gold kept secrets but only because he was hiding some great pain that he wasn't ready to face. Whatever his reason for keeping the truth from her, Belle would find out for herself. If Gold wouldn't tell her what had happened between them, then Belle would seek out the only one who could.

_Milah hasn't set foot in this house since the night she left. She can't stand it. She's at Granny's Inn, room 214. Her usual room._

Belle straightened her posture and set to walking forward into the courtyard of the inn. _Room 214. Room 214._ She had to keep her feet moving toward the room or she would lose her nerve. Quickly, Belle moved up the stairs and headed toward room 214, knowing as she headed closer that it was one of the larger rooms at the inn.

Being a modest inn in a small town, Granny's couldn't boast much, but after all her odd jobs Belle had come to know the layout well enough to know that room 214 could boast a view of the courtyard on one end and a view of Main Street from the other, a full breakfast nook and a small sofa against one wall.

There was a chance that Gold might have spent the night on that sofa, but Belle had to bank that he wouldn't have returned to Milah so soon after she'd banished him from his own house.

Belle stood in front of the door and knocked before she could stop herself. _There. No turning back now._

The door opened and Belle stood, her eyes meeting those of Milah Gold.

______________________________

Milah was taller than Belle, and she was sure she'd be taller than Gold as well. The woman was also very slender, built like a dancer, but it wasn't her height or her frame that had Belle staring, but her scars.

From the middle of her right cheek, sweeping back over her face, down her ear and over her neck, were deep burn scars. Belle knew. She had seen these scars before. Milah was holding the door open, and Belle saw that the scarring hadn't stopped at her face; what was revealed of Milah's hands and forearms had been badly burned as well. The scars stood bold against the woman's light skin. Belle couldn't tell how far up the burns went, as Milah was wearing a black semi-sheer top with long sleeves over a camisol to keep herself covered.

"You're Milah."

"Aye." Milah nodded and crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "And you're staring."

"I-yes. I'm sorry." Belle dropped her eyes for a moment, then looked up again. "I mean, I'm Belle."

Milah raised a brow at the name, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Belle? _His_ Belle?"

"Yes."

"Did something happen, is he all right?" Concern was written all over Milah's face, her thoughts already racing.

_What happened? Where's the nearest hospital?_

"No, nothing like that." Belle held out her hands in a reassuring gesture. "He's fine."

Milah sighed in relief. "Oh, good. Well, was there something you needed, then?"

Belle felt off-kilter already - it was one thing to imagine this confrontation with Milah, what she had planned to say, the questions she needed to ask, but it was another to actually meet her like this. In the flesh, face-to-face, the living, breathing reality of Gold's past. "I...please, can I talk to you?"

Milah regarded her frankly, looking Belle up and down just as openly as Belle had stared at her. Belle shifted her weight, wondering what Milah made of her. In the end, it was the cold that decided her. Milah didn't know what to think of this stranger on her doorstep but she wouldn't just leave her standing outside.

"Come on in. So what's all this about? Does he know you're here?" Milah asked as she shut the door behind her. She couldn't help but give Belle the once-over, this pretty young woman who had, essentially, replaced her in Gold's heart.

Milah had been telling Gold the truth when she'd reassured him that she wasn't jealous. She wanted him to be happy, her poor friend had earned it after everything, all this time. Belle was very pretty, a pale brunette with bright eyes - Gold's type, whether he cared to admit he had a type or not. A tiny thing, and Milah was sure he must like being the taller one for a change. A sharp dresser, too. Milah liked Belle's scarf and jacket.

Her first impulse was to reach for her own scarf, wind it about her throat to hide her scars, but Milah suppressed it. She had to remember her therapy affirmations - her scars were proof of her survival and nothing to be ashamed of. Still. It was hard to remember that when confronted by someone so...intact.

Milah straightened her posture and thought of Killian across the ocean, waiting for her to return home. If he'd been there with them he'd try cracking a joke to relieve the tension.

_Two beautiful brunettes! I'll have to ask Gold what his secret is!_

Milah stayed quiet. She wasn't in much of a joking mood.

Belle entered into the rented room, taking note of the few things that the other woman had brought with her. One black roller suitcase was on the floor below the window, its lid unzipped and leaning up against the wall. She could see a few changes of clothes inside, rolled and folded. A pair of plain black shoes was near the rumpled bed. A cell charger was plugged in on the nightstand.

In the kitchenette there were two bottles of wine on the counter, the brand that Belle knew Granny left as a welcome gift in every room. She knew because Ruby loved to bring "borrowed" gift bottles every time there was a party in their circle of friends.

"No, he doesn't. And I'm sorry to crash in on you like this." Belle turned back around to address her. She was already second-guessing her idea of just showing up to talk; she should have waited, she should have talked to Gold about seeing Milah first, but Belle had wanted to make a stand of her own, and it was too late to turn back now that Milah knew who she was. "I was hoping to talk to you if that's all right."

"I don't know what you imagine we'd have to say to talk about. Out with it, then. But if you've come to warn me away from him, then you're wasting your breath. As of yesterday I'm only the former Mrs. Gold." Milah shrugged.

Belle's eyes widened, "What?"

"Aye. He signed off on a no-contest divorce, I've already scanned the papers to the barrister and me man back home. I'll be getting married again in sixth months' time. I've always wanted a June wedding." Milah smiled lightly, gesturing to a bridal magazine left out on the bed.

Belle barely heard her, she felt the world tilting under her feet. "You've been _married_ all this time?" She sank down into one of the chairs in the breakfast nook.

Milah quirked a brow at Belle, "Our marriage has been over for decades. These last twenty years, it's only been on paper, dearie, please trust me in that."

"I don't know who to trust anymore." Belle said. She felt her heart pounding hard in her chest - she wanted to scream and cry and strangle Gold all at once. "I've only met you, but I would put more stock in your word over his right now."

"What're you on about?" Milah asked.

"He never told me about you." Belle choked out.

"What?"

"I...I know about your son. I know you've come back to Storybrooke every year since it happened but I only know that because he told me last night. I'd thought you died in the fire with him. He never spoke about you. He never said you'd lived or that you were still in touch." Belle struggled to say.

For her part, Milah didn't appear surprised or upset that Gold had not mentioned her. Really, she wasn't much better. She'd told Killian nothing of her past until well over a year into their relationship...her secret had almost cost her the new life she had built with him.

She didn't want that for Gold. Milah didn't know much of his relationship with Belle, but she knew that Gold loved her.

"Well...he always was a tight-lipped lad. He plays things close to the chest. Sorry to disappoint you, Belle, but here I am." Milah spread her arms, gesturing at herself.

"That's not what I meant. I didn't mean...I don't want you to be dead." Belle stumbled to say.

"That makes one of us." Milah muttered under her breath. She wasn't sure she should be speaking with Belle, now. The way this was going, Milah was sure she'd tell her something best left to Gold or more, best left unsaid all together.

"I can't understand this. It's been twenty years. Why wouldn't he tell me about you?"

Milah felt a bitter twist in her stomach at that. "Oh, and you think twenty years would be long enough to be well over and done with everything that happened? No wonder he didn't tell you. Our breaking...it was beyond painful."

"I understand that, but-"

"No, Belle, I don't think you do." Milah interrupted, her temper growing riled. "How could you? He might have told you about our son but I know him better than anyone, so I know that if he's told you anything about our Baelfire, then he's only shared good memories. All those happy times, before everything went to hell for us. Nothing about what it was like after our boy was gone. He hasn't gone into the black, thick of it."

"No, he hasn't." Belle said quietly. She looked up at Milah. "Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Will you tell me? Please? You're right, he's only shared a little with me. He lets me choose pictures from his album and then he tells me the story that goes along with it. Talking about his son...I'd thought he was healing. Maybe it was just scratching the surface. In the last few weeks he hasn't been himself, he's been so cut-off and depressed."

Milah knew very well why Gold had withdrawn. She did the same thing this time of year, every year. "Yes. It's our unhappy anniversary."

"He calls it that too." Belle swiped at the tear on her cheek. "God, this is horrible. I would change things for him if I could, for both of you. I'd change everything."

On seeing Belle's tears, Milah softened toward her. She didn't mean to be harsh, but Belle and Gold weren't the only ones in pain. Milah had had only one child, her beautiful perfect son, fathered by the first man she'd ever loved. Everything Milah had cherished in her life had been torn away, ripped from the very heart of her, by fire, by mourning hatred and her own hand.

She had fought to build a new life for herself, so far away from all this, but she had refused to be a mother ever again. The heart could only break so many times.

"I'm sure you would. He said you were kind. He loves you. He told me yesterday. Do you love him?"

"Yes. He's my first and only love. He knows that." Belle tensed, strengthening her resolve. "But he lied to me. Lead me to believe you'd died."

"Oh, if only..." Milah sighed. She sat down at the little table across from her, and brought two cups along with the wine.

"Don't say that."

"There was a time..." Milah took in a deep breath, shook away the dark memories. She had had to claw her way out of that pit of despair. She poured the wine to distract herself. "I don't know what you want me to say. Why did you come here, what did you think you would learn from me? Do you want to know what it was like the night of the fire, seeing him get crushed by the beam that came down from the ceiling? The stink of it burning his back, and then my hands as I pulled him out from under it?" Milah lifted her left hand, showing Belle the mass of scars it was now. She shook her head, horrible memories rising to overtake her; as she spoke of that night, she was transported back there. She could feel the flames, scent the burning flesh, feel the raw, seething despair at all she'd lost. She projected onto Belle, letting this young stranger be the target of her anger - Belle had come uninvited to her room, seeking answers she didn't trust from Gold. Fine, then. Milah would tell her everything. "Or how once I'd pulled him out of the room, the horror of realizing that Bae was still inside? The panic that sets you fighting against the firemen to get back into the room with the mad, wild hope that you can still save your baby? Is that what you came here to hear?!"

"Milah-"

But Milah was still on, her eyes dark and distant, her heart full of rage, the pain of it sharpened in recounting it all over again, being back in this town, surrounded, drowning in the memories of her lost son and the man she'd lost in the fire that night. "Or maybe you want to know what it was like at the hospital. To wake up days later to a pain you'd never known before, to not recognize what you see in the mirror." Milah touched her face, blinking back her tears. "But what do these damn scars matter? I'd drag myself naked through a thousand miles of hot, broken glass just to see our son again."

Tears were coursing freely from Belle's eyes now. Milah had saved Gold's life? Bae had been trapped in the fire? There was so much that he had kept from her - so many painful secrets.

"I know you would."

"You're not a mother yet, are you?"

Belle shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"Then you don't know anything." Milah glared. "You love him, I'm sure you do, but when you have a child, it's different. It changes everything. It's...it's loving yourself and your man and the one you made together all at once. Imagine loving someone with your whole heart, everything you have...then imagine them _ruined._ So ruined that the only merciful thing you can do is end their suffering."

A great black pit opened in Belle's stomach. "You-?"

"Yes. Baelfire was lost to us. Lost to the world. He'd never..." Milah speared her fingers through her hair, unconsciously showing the scars on her face and neck before her hair fell back into place, hiding most of the marks once again. "As soon as my burns were tended to, I demanded that they let me see my son. The doctors wanted to keep us separate, but I fought my way through to get to him." Milah's voice choked but she was quick to clear her throat. She shook her head and took a deep breath to calm herself. She had taken greater steps than Gold ever had over the years to be able to speak of this - it had been what saved her life.

Milah shook her head and gulped at her wine to aid her voice. She wished it wasn't wine, but whiskey or vodka, something, _anything_ strong enough to numb the cruel black pain clawing its way through her body in recalling this. She thought of Gold's pain pills. She thought of the poison she'd tried to use in Lochdubh.

_No. Don't think of that._

"I took one look at him and I _knew._ You could never understand what it was like, to see this, this charred black _thing_ that he'd become, only barely alive because of the machines surrounding his bed. The doctors, they told me if he ever woke up he'd be nothing. Less than nothing, he'd never speak or smile or run or play or even stand on his own again. He'd never be able to feed himself or recall his own name. He wouldn't know us or himself. Everything that had made him our son was gone. _Baelfire was gone._ All that was left was this ruined husk of a body." Milah said bitterly.

She downed the last of her wine and poured more for herself. She'd drink down the entire bottle before the morning was through. Belle held a hand to her mouth, her tears flowing freely. She couldn't speak. What could she say on learning the true horror that Gold had never found the strength to voice?

Milah speared her fingers through her hair again. "God, what choice was there? My husband was in surgery and would be kept in a coma for near a week. He wasn't able to make the choice and it would have been so cruel to keep Bae alive until his father woke. I did the only thing that could be done. God forgive me, I ended our boy's suffering."

She went on, her voice choking. "Bae was gone already. All I did was let his body die...after, I went to my husband. I stayed in his room while he stayed in the coma to recover. I was there when he woke up. I don't know what he's told you about me, Belle, but that man has known me since I was a girl. We've been everything to each other. He woke up, took one look at me and he knew. He could see it in my eyes. I looked at him and I saw us break. You can't imagine the sound he made, the look on his face. I hope it's something you never have to see for yourself."

Belle felt her own heart drop, tearing apart at the woman's long confession. It spanned decades, a marriage and the lifetime of a son so loved that his death had spelled the death of both his mother and father.

Belle's instinct was to find Gold, her friend and love. She could forgive him anything, because now she understood that his pain was so much deeper than she had first known.

"Oh, Milah. God, I never knew any of this. He never told me."

Milah took another deep swallow of her wine, chasing numbness now. She had to stop drinking, she'd promised Killian. "He would have, in his own time. I'm sure of it. He guards his pain but the man does love you. I saw it for myself. Trust in that."

"I love him too. I was horrible to him last night, I was just upset that he hadn't told me about you. I found out you were here from a friend who saw you together in the diner."

"Mmm. I'm not surprised. Small town gossip and all that." Milah sighed deeply. "He would have told you, I'm sure of it. With so much that was taken out of his control, he tries to keep control where he can. That's why he threw himself into his work after I left."

Belle rubbed under her eyes with a tissue. "Milah...what happened to you after?"

"After, when we were released to go home, we didn't speak to each other for days. We just helped each other with our bandages. We didn't speak of what happened. We didn't touch. We didn't _grieve._ I stayed upstairs in our room, he stayed downstairs in his study because of his leg. I think we were both just waiting for Bae to come home. Then, a neighbor girl gave us back Bae's pup and it was that dog, that happy little thing running about the house looking for the boy. It was the dog what broke us out of our numbness. It was like we woke up from a daze." Milah closed her eyes, her heart breaking anew. "We were different. Horrible. We turned on each other. We blamed each other. We said the most god-awful things...I blamed him for bringing us to the motel in the first place, he blamed me for letting our boy die. He said _I'd killed his son._ His son." Milah gave a bitter chuckle at that, recalling Gold's savage words. " _His_ son, like he'd birthed and raised the boy all on his own. I told him I'd wished he'd been the one to die. I wanted him to be dead, charred black down to his bones in that hospital bed."

Belle was rooted and still, speechless in her pained shock. That Gold could say something so brutal to his wife, that Milah could match his vicious words so easily...she could understand it now, how grief had destroyed them.

"I cheated." Milah said abruptly. "As soon as I was able, I'd go out for drinks and then find myself with these pigs from the docks, men who could ignore my scars when I was throwing myself at them. I'd let them sweat over me in their cars or on their boats, too drunk to say no and not caring enough to even try. God, when I think back on it..." Milah coughed, choking on the tightness in her throat. "As soon as he could manage with the cane, he cheated on me too. It wasn't about the sex, it was all just distraction from losing Bae. We were...ruined in spirit and body. I'd starve myself for days, then binge until I was sick. He couldn't stop taking those damn pain pills, trying to escape the blame I put on him, the blame he put on himself." Milah blinked and her eyes locked with Belle's, focusing intently on Gold's new woman. "Months and months of this, just living and breathing hate for each other and ourselves and before we knew it, it'd been a year. That was the shock we needed. It seemed to hit us at once: the state we were in, we weren't fit to remember our son. Baelfire would have been sick with shame to see what we'd done to each other, these monsters we'd become. God, we loved each other but we'd become each other's blackest poison."

"That's why you left." Belle said, her voice hoarse from suppressed sobbing.

Milah nodded. "Aye. I went home to stay with my brother in Lochdubh. I couldn't speak of it with Joseph. He loved Bae too, his wee cowboy nephew. They were dark days, I couldn't... I dragged myself through until the next winter. I came back to Storybrooke and put flowers on my son's grave. I walked the town, stood outside our house, just staring at it but I couldn't make my feet take me inside. I couldn't stand to be anywhere near it. It's been twenty years and I still can't."

"He told me he hasn't changed much in the house. He said he's just maintained it."

"He never could stand designing the rooms, he left it all to me." Milah mused, thinking back to her work to perfect their home, the arguments they'd had over furniture, paint and wallpaper. "When we saw each other after parting, he said that he'd made a standing arrangement to always have this room available for me when the time came. Storbrooke doesn't have much, but he's kept the best room here for me. All this time, and despite everything, he's still a gentleman, that one."

"Milah-"

"I was pregnant before the fire." Milah said abruptly. "I never told him that. I've never even said it out loud."

Belle's stomach clenched. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"I couldn't kill the man twice in one day. There. Now you have a secret. See? Not everything is so easy to come out and just say." Milah hissed at her, reminded of the petty reason Belle had come to her for answers rather than accept that Gold would have told her of their past pain when he was ready. "I don't know why he didn't tell you about me, but he wasn't as blessed in his recovery as I was."

"Blessed?"

"Yes. I left this place, I couldn't stand to be surrounded by constant memories. He chose to stay a prisoner to his own guilt. Here, he's surrounded by memory and he still blames himself."

"Yes."

"Of course he does." Milah sighed. "You know, he once told me that he had failed at being a hero, so he became a villain to the town. A part of him relishes being hated because he hates himself. The man i grew up with, the man I loved, he died in that fire and I'm sure he'll tell you the same about me. I'm worlds away from what I was. Baelfire died, and he took us with him."

_______________________________

The women were quiet for some time, letting Milah's truth settle in the air between them. Ignoring her earlier choice, Milah poured herself more wine, along with a smaller measure for Belle.

Belle ignored the drink. She couldn't stomach it.

"I can understand why he wouldn't speak of me." She said. "Losing Bae was one thing. The way we destroyed each other for the year that followed...that was a different failure. We were ashamed and miserable and dead inside. I myself waited for nearly a year to tell Killian anything of what I'd lost."

Belle blinked. "Killian?"

Milah let a tiny smile break over her face, the first smile that Belle had seen from her all day. "Killian Jones. He's my fiancé. I can call him that now that I'm free to accept his proposal."

"A year. You waited a long time to tell him."

"Yes. In keeping my secrets, I almost lost him. He's a good man. He truly is, to accept me like this." Milah said, gesturing to her scarred face. "I'm so fortunate that he found me when he did. In time, he was able to accept and understand. I hope you can, too. After everything...our man, he deserves to be happy, doesn't he? When he told me about you yesterday I could see something in his face that I haven't seen in decades. He's letting himself feel happiness again, Belle."

"He didn't trust me with the truth. If he'd just told me, I could have understood. I could have helped him through it."

"In time, I know he would have. You said he wanted to talk to you last night. He would have told you about me - hell, he might have arranged for us to meet but you beat him to it." Milah scoffed, that same almost-smile quirking her lips again.

"I shouldn't have pushed him away." Belle shook her head, thinking back to her tantrum the night before, how selfish and petty it felt now. Her upset was less than nothing compared to his suffering. "God, I was horrible to him."

"That man will forgive anything of someone he loves." Milah knew the truth of that all too well. "It's hell to push through, but just talk to him. Make him talk to you, if you can."

Whatever Belle might have said next was interrupted by a swift knocking on the door. The women blinked, their trance of remorse broken. The outside world was invading in on them, now.

Milah stood from the nook table and rubbed her eyes, straightening her shirt and smoothing down her hair, careful to pat it back into place on the side to better hide her scars. "Looks like you won't have to wait long. 10 quid says that's him now."

"How do you know?"

Milah shook her head and sighed. "He's the only one who knows I'm here. I don't have anyone else in Storybrooke, Belle. This isn't home for me anymore. It hasn't been for years."

Belle drank down her wine as Milah moved to answer the door.


	44. Hens

Gold shifted his weight uneasily outside Milah's door. He hadn't texted her before approaching the inn, he didn't know for sure if the was in the room but he had banked on it. _Milah hated Storybrooke._ Her annual return wasn't coming home for her, it wasn't coming back to touch base with the few friends still in town that she'd left behind in her leaving, it wasn't taking a drive past all the old sites of memory to see the changes that had taken place in the time she'd been gone.

The woman come back for one thing, one thing only.

Milah returned for Baelfire.

Decades ago, she and Gold had made a promise, nothing short of a blood-pact; so long as they were able, they would meet on their son's death. Baelfire deserved no less in death, given that his life was meant to be so much more. Their son hadn't lasted a decade in the world, so his parents would spend every year, every decade following in remembrance of him.

Gold cleared his throat at hearing movement on the other side of the door, and stood up straighter as Milah opened the door. She graced him with a crooked smile, though her eyes were red, bright with tears.

"Milah, what's happened?"

The woman shrugged and crossed her arms, bringing further attention to how thin she'd become this winter. He scowled. Killian ought to be looking after her, making sure she ate her way back to a healthy weight.

She stepped aside to let him into the room and Gold strode forward, passing the kitchenette where Belle was hiding and coming to stand in the center of her room, between the bed and the sofa. He glanced at her suitcase and then his eyes fell of her copy of _Modern Bride._

Gold smirked at it. "Getting a head start, eh?"

Despite everything that Milah had had to relive with Belle only moments ago, Milah let herself smile. He was on to her, she never could hide from him. "You could say that. I sent our divorce agreement on to Killian's man in London. He's already e-mailed me, said it's as good as done. I'll be a June bride this time around."

"Hmph. June's overrated. You made a perfect winter bride." Gold said, only half-teasing. He wanted Milah happy and he knew Killian would take care of her, he had been for years. It was only...he didn't want her to be happier with Killian than she'd been with him, before the fire. Petty, possessive and irrational, but Gold never claimed to be a good man.

Milah pursed her lips, remembering their wedding. They'd been young and in love and had sunk nearly all their money into a beautiful December wedding. And it had been so beautiful, from the ceremony to the reception to the honeymoon and everything that had followed - they had had a beautiful life together.

But that was the past.

"Don't worry, love. I won't let Killian give me a better wedding than you did." Milah reached over and tussled his hair. She liked it long, though she knew the reason he'd grown it out. "We've already decided on a small destination wedding in the Bahamas."

"Any regrets?" Gold asked, cocking an eyebrow, baiting her.

"Regrets?"

"That you didn't put any demands down for alimony." The man shrugged, paging through her magazine. "Hell, the money might have paid for your wedding. Oh, this would look nice on you."

Milah sidled up to look over his shoulder at the dress he'd pointed out. A pretty lace sheath with a low sweetheart neckline. Lovely, but not for her. So strange, this, to be with her first husband, her first love, thinking of the dress she would wear in her second wedding, whilst staying in the town they'd raised their son, her only child...and all while her first husband's second love was still in the kitchenette trying to clear her eyes.

"I'm not sure I care for that neckline."

"Because of your scars? They've never bothered Hook."

Milah swatted his shoulder. "You know he hates that nickname. Besides, I am a modest girl from a good Catholic family, so showing even a hint of cleavage is out of the question." Milah said primly, teasing him.

Gold tossed the magazine aside and gave her a sly smile. "It wasn't so out of the question when we met, lass. You with your low tops was half the reason I came round to see you in the first place."

"My charming personality wasn't enough?"

"First it was the cleavage and then it was that you liked the Rangers when all the other birds were for the Celtic." Gold teased back at her.

This felt good, this easiness between them. For so long it had been vicious poison, and then a cold civil detatchment. It had taken them years to become friends again. Now, they would do anything for each other.

Including help mend the rift with his new love.

"You can come out now." Milah called out.

Gold raised a brow. He'd thought she was alone. "Killian's here?"

"Not exactly."

Gold's eyes widened as Belle stepped out of the kitchenette, approaching them. Immediately, dread flooded him - his wife and his lover in the same room. How long had they been together? What had been said between them?

He glanced to the window at his back, wondered if the fall to the street below would be enough to kill him before the women could.

But looking back to her, Belle didn't appear upset - or, not with him. She had been crying, he could see that and his heart grew tight. He furrowed his brow, confused, wary of her. "Belle. The note you left - I'd thought you'd wanted your time alone, gone back to your flat."

Belle shook her head, wringing her hands together. She had crossed a line, coming here and speaking with Milah. The knowledge she had now, it hadn't been her right to know any of it. She had acted from a place of entitlement, regretting her choice to see Milah almost immediately but their conversation had escalated so quickly, it'd been an avalanche of painful history.

She barely remembered the note she'd scribbled out for him. She held out her hand, reaching for her love. "I know. I'm sorry. I just...I wanted to meet her."

Milah crossed her arms. "She came to me for answers."

Gold scowled at his wife, his brows drawing together. "What have you told her, Milah?"

Belle's hand still hovered in the air, reaching, hoping for him.

Milah was unapologetic, ignoring his frown. She'd seen Gold at his absolute worst; he may be unhappy with her now for sharing their past, but she was damned if she was going to cower at his flash of mood. "I told her everything. Every last black piece of it. This little thing just showed up at my door wanting answers and I maybe told more than I should have, but you didn't leave her much choice, did you?"

Gold met Belle's eyes, looking to her as he answered Milah's question. "No, I didn't. And I'm sorry for that."

He reached to touch her hand, taking it into his own. Relief flooded through Belle. It wasn't over.

"You can be a sorry sod. But a good man, at the heart of it." Milah scoffed. For her part, the woman felt wrung out. The morning had been so heavy, she wanted reassurance and to reassure in turn. She just...she needed a break from the pain.

Gold huffed at that, "Oh, I'm a sorry sod? That's perfect, this is just what I need, two hens pecking at me now."

Despite all this, Belle felt her lips quirk in a small smile. There was a warmth here, between Gold and Milah. It showed in their teasing. It was a warmth born of true love and friendship - these two people were bonded by a past that Belle could never touch, but Gold placed his future in her hands.

Belle tightened her grip on his hand, squeezing his fingers.

"Don't be a nonce." Milah snapped at him. "This isn't about you or me or her. The winter has only ever been about Baelfire. She says she loves you. Do you love her?" She asked suddenly.

Gold's answer was immediate. Again, he answered Milah's question but his eyes were locked with Belle's. "Yes."

"Then fix this." Milah commanded. "I'll be damned if I'm the wedge between you and finally finding some happiness."

"How can I fix this?" This he asked of both the women.

 _"Talk._ I know it hurts, but finally talking is what saved my life in Lochdubh, and it saved my relationship with Killian."

Gold hung his head, shamed by his wife's wisdom. She knew. She knew because she had lived through the tragedy with him and she'd forged a life for herself across the sea. He had to do as Milah had done, and find the strength to bring down the last of his walls.

It's what Belle deserved. It's what he deserved.

Still, he felt unbalanced, here in Milah's room. He had fought against being vulnerable for so long, burying himself in his work - dealing and crafting contracts and building up his influence and control over the town, embracing it when angry tenants called him a monster to his face and worse behind his back.

It had been his only way to maintain control over his life after everything he'd cared about had been ripped away. The man took a deep breath. Whatever Milah had told Belle, he knew that he would still need to talk about this with her, answer what questions she may still have for him...but not just yet and not here.

They needed fresh air, a change of scenery. "Can we talk over coffee downstairs?"

Milah cocked a brow at him, "You buying?"

"Don't I always?"

"Big man." Milah nodded. "I'll get my coat."

Belle bit her lip, stifling her first laugh of the day.

______________________________

The cold air outside the inn room was bracing and felt so refreshing to Belle and Milah both. The women took several deep breaths of it, enjoying the cold air against their hot faces and swollen eyes. "Oh, that feels good." Milah said, voicing Belle's thoughts.

For his part, Gold wasn't sure what to say to either one of the women. What could he say to explain himself? There weren't enough apologies for Belle and Milah looked ready to twist the knife as soon as they were alone - she could be as vindictive as he, when the mood struck.

Still, for now he could enjoy this strange camaraderie that Milah and Belle had seemed to find while he'd been none the wiser. He lagged a few steps behind while Belle told Milah of her work at the library and Milah in turn told her of the film she'd be working on in Boston after she'd finished her time in Storybrooke.

Stepping into the diner, Gold noted the look that passed between Belle and Ruby, but he chose not to comment on it as they took a table. Choosing wisely, Gold sat next to Belle rather than across from her, and was rewarded with her hand coming over his on the table. An unconscious signal for everyone to see that he was claimed.

It was not Ruby who came for their order, but another of the waitresses. Belle ordered a bagel with cream cheese as a sort of brunch, while Gold was still full from Henry's breakfast and so only ordered a coffee for himself. Milah didn't order anything, she just sipped at her water.

"No lunch, Milah?" Gold prodded.

"No. My appetite's gone off. You know how I get."

_All too well._

Gold nodded. "Yes. You still need to eat."

"Look after yourself. Or better yet have this one do it," Milah gestured to Belle. "She looks up to the job."

"I try. He fights me every step of the way." Belle said quietly, her voice subdued despite the small smile touching her lips.

"No way around that, the man's as stubborn as he is sly." Milah said after a sip. "You'll either have to bully or bait him into accepting help."

"I've had to do both."

Gold scowled at his women when they shared a laugh at him. "Stop comparing notes, I'm not all that bad."

Both Belle and Milah looked at him with cocked brows and amused smirks. He didn't like that. At all.

"Oh, yes you are. Or, you can be, when you want to be. Bae was like that." Milah finished, lowering her eyes, remembering.

"He was." Gold agreed. "Stubborn and wild. I told Belle about that time he went digging for worms before school."

Milah rubbed her face, her eyes bright. "God! I'd almost forgotten that. Yes, our little man disappeared just after I'd had him dressed - in a new white shirt, mind - for his pictures and he comes clomping back into the house, muddy as a pig from digging in the yard!"

Belle smiled. "He also told me about the tree - how Baelfire climbed up when no one else would, all to impress some girl."

"Yes! Our wee monkey climbed to the near top of that tree - he ought to have stayed up there and saved himself from the spanks I gave that boy. I was just done in by the time he'd come down. True and done with it, I was." Milah laughed.

Gold joined in, "You'd gone to the neighbors to tell them off after their girl put out that dare, remember that?"

"Aye. I was so upset they couldn't understand my accent. It took me four tries before they knew I was trying to give them a piece of my mind, four!"

"He was sorry to have upset us but not for climbing that tree." Gold said. "He told me, he said, 'If I didn't climb it, no one would have. I had to try!' But that was Bae, always had to be the first in everything. He would have made a name for himself in business."

"Or as a doctor." Milah put in.

"Or a chef." Suggested Gold, thinking of Henry from that morning.

"Or a lawyer, like his father."

"No. He would have been the greatest footballer the Rangers had ever known."

At that, finally at an impasse, Milah and Gold agreed.

They clinked their glasses to Baelfire Gold, their lost boy.

Gold sighed. Their time was running out. They could all feel it. "Are you ready? One last look?"

Milah took another sip of her water and echoed his sigh. This is how it always was. Sadness and clawing memories and bittersweet laughter.

"I am. One last look to Baelfire and then that's the end of it."


	45. Last Chance

Belle trailed after Milah and Gold, just a few steps behind as they began the walk toward Storybrooke's lone church and cemetery. She had been quiet for most of the morning, with clear reason. After everything Milah had told her, and then seeing the reality of Gold and Milah together - interacting, joking, reminiscing - had unsettled her.

Learning that Milah was alive, that Gold had been to see her while warning Belle away, that had hurt. She'd been angry enough to send him out of his own house, defiant enough to approach Milah on her own.

That had been a mistake.

Milah, not appreciative of being questioned by Gold's new love, had told her everything. Perhaps too much. The woman had fed Belle the furious pain of a history that she had no part in.

_Be careful what you wish for._

It'd been somewhat vindictive on Milah's part. So like Gold, she hated to speak of her past, so, when Belle showed up at her door expecting explanations, Milah had punished her impudence with a flood of hideous truth.

Then, just after, Gold had come and drawn them out of the room.

The fresh air had been bracing, easing the tension between them. At the diner table, Belle had been drawn into the warmth between these old friends. She had teamed with Milah in teasing Gold, then fallen silent again as they'd raised a glass to their lost boy, the son who never came home.

Now, she'd let Milah have her place by Gold's side as they all made the silent trek to the cemetery.

Belle felt it was right.

She had no real place here. She had never met Baelfire, never embraced him or called him her friend. She hadn't lost him, she's never mourned the boy. The depth of their sorrow was unimaginable to Belle. She had barely scratched the surface of what had been ripped from them.

She felt compassion for their pain, but the loss was not her own. It never could be.

They reached the gate of the cemetery and continued on, silent. Belle slowed down to allow the gap between them to grow wider, and then she stopped at the church, letting them go on without her.

_Let them go. This is theirs._

_____________________________

Together, Gold and Milah crunched their way through the new snow, taking the path to Bae's marker once again. Milah wondered if her pain would ever stop. Yes, she had fallen low in her darkest hour, decades ago, and she'd managed to pick herself back up and make a life for herself across the sea. A new man, whose children had become like her own but who could never, ever, replace the son she'd lost.

The woman knew this sad trek by heart, now. She knew the words on the marker, she knew the small stone engraved with the name of their dog. She knew it all, too well.

She stood beside the man who was once her best friend, her only love and her husband, and she gave a quiet sigh. Milah would give anything, all she had, to go back in time and relive a day with Gold as he'd once been - unmarred, unburdened by injury, back when he'd been whole and healthy, back when she was still beautiful and full of hope, with their son between them.

_Baelfire._

Sweet, sweet Bae - the boy who kicked rocks, ran, swam, crawled, climbed and dug though dirt. He'd been a rowdy thing when his father wasn't there to put him in his place; the boy had been unruly at times, always pushing boundaries, testing his limits and trying to prove himself a man, Milah supposed.

She glanced to Gold, hoping that he would turn to her right then to tell her he had some magic, some miracle at his fingertips so they could see their son again...but no.

Gold said nothing, because they would never see Bae again on this side of life and a piece of Milah would _always_ hate Gold for it.

They stood, gloved hands entwined, staring at the marker, eyes unseeing. They could not see the gravestone, the misery for what it was. They could only see Baelfire: the baby, the boy, the man he might have become.

They could have stayed there until their last day, when Baelfire would descend to greet them, but their lives were calling them away. Gold squeezed her fingers and broke the silence. "Same time, same place, next year?"

Milah nodded, blinking back her tears.

"Same time, same place, every year. You promised me."

"We promised each other." Gold jutted his chin toward the gravestone. "We promised him."

She nodded again, agreeing.

They were quiet for a time. Then, "My time here is done, I think. I'm going back."

"Back to the inn?"

"For tonight." Milah glanced behind them, up to the church building where Belle was watching them. "I'm going to leave in the morning."

"Are you sure?" Gold asked her. "You could stay."

She shook her head. "No. It's time."

Gold nodded. He knew Milah wanted to be getting on; she came back to Storybrooke for Bae and to see him, but with Belle here, Milah felt no need to linger. He had someone to look after him now, and she was so glad to see that. It had been impossible to miss the love in their eyes when they'd looked at each other in her room.

Milah turned to look back toward the church, to Belle. "You'll be all right."

Gold followed her eyes. "I hope so. Will you send Belle to me before you go?"

She hesitated, gesturing back toward their son's grave. She remembered all too well how angry he'd been when she had allowed Killian to see Baelfire's stone. This situation was different, she knew, but Gold could be so...possessive of their loss. Though no longer married, Milah felt the urge to protect him, even from his own faults. She didn't want him to react in such a way that would drive Belle away.

"Are you sure you're ready for her to see?"

"I am. It's time." Gold cleared his throat, feeling more focused and clear than he had in weeks. The cloud over his heart was lifting. He could feel he was returning to himself as he did after Milah's every visit. It was cathartic to share memories and speak of Bae with the only other person who had shared his son. "But this isn't about me any more. I love Belle. She deserves to be here with us. So does Killian."

Milah raised a brow at that. "You nearly killed him when I brought him here."

Feeling a flash of smug, Gold remembered all too well how he'd bested the other man. Killian was nearly five years his junior, and bigger than Gold besides, but Gold had a mad temper on his side. They'd had words and then words had escalated to a short fight and then Milah had had a stern discussion with them both. In a way, both Gold and Killian had been put into Bae's shoes when Milah had been in of a mind to scold him.

Truly, the woman could be thunderous.

"I know. I was wrong."

Milah's face brightened. "Can you say that again? I'll need it for posterity."

 _"I was wrong._ The only time in my life, ever, by the way. But I was wrong to try forcing this to stay just between us. Killian and Belle, they're where our futures lie. They deserve to know of our past, starting here."

Milah swiped tears from her eyes.

Gold stepped closer, "Milah, Milah, please don't cry."

"I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm crying because I'm happy."

"Happy? How can you be happy here?" He asked, baffled. Standing before their son's grave, surrounded by death on all sides, how could she find any happiness in this place?

"I'm so glad to see you happy again, love." Milah stepped forward and brought him into her arms, holding him tight. "It's been too long."

"Goodbye, Milah."

Milah kissed his cheek and pressed her forehead to his, just holding him, taking in the moment. They could both feel it - forgiveness and relief and warmth and love, all at once.

They released from the embrace and just looked at each other.

"Goodbye."

Milah turned away and made her way back up the path they'd come. Gold watched her trek up to the church building. With the distance, he could not hear what was said between the women, but he watched as Milah walked away, out of sight, and Belle began her approach to him.

______________________________

Belle watched from her place near the church doors, arms crossed as she leaned against the railing. She was squinting against the brightness of the day - the sun was reflecting on the fresh snow, hurting her eyes and causing a slight headache, but it wasn't enough to make her turn away.

Gold and Milah had walked on down the main path before diverting down a row of stones. They then dropped out of Belle's line of sight. They remained hidden for some time, allowing Belle's mind to drift.

Her upset at Gold for keeping Milah a secret had faded on meeting the woman. She hadn't given her much thought before, when she'd thought her to have died in the fire. She knew that she and Gold had to have loved each other very much, but knowing now that the woman was alive - seeing her, speaking to her - had changed things.

_We'll talk tonight._

Belle blinked herself out of her thoughts once she realized that Milah was approaching her, alone.

"Uh, where's-?"

"He's still down there. Go on, he wants you to see Bae's marker." Milah told her as she moved to walk past.

Belle raised a brow, "Milah, wait. Where are you going?"

"Back to Granny's." She said, the cold pinking her cheeks and making her scars stand out even further against her light skin. She really was a very pretty woman, scars and all. "I'm going to call Killian and it's high time I ate something. He was right, back at the diner."

Belle nodded and dug her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket. "He usually is. Don't tell him I said that, though, he'd never let me forget it."

Milah smiled, "What, you mean he's smug? Proud? A show-off? No, never that!"

The women laughed, having shared a similar experience with the man.

"Oh, the stories I could tell you, lass." Milah said. "He's a sight more settled now than when I knew him, but back home, back before...all this, he was like fireworks. Just crazy and proud and always up for an adventure. God, he was a wild man, such fun."

"If he was so wild, how did you convince him to settle down?"

Milah shrugged, "Well, you're no green girl, are you? I had to beat him at his own game."

The woman lapsed into a wistful silence, and Belle realized that she wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

"You're welcome to come back to the house with us, we can all eat there."

"No. No, I haven't set foot in that house since the night I left him and I'm not going back. Thank you, but no. Being back there...it would be too much, even after all this time. You're sweet to offer that to me, though." She said, placing her hand on Belle's arm to convey her meaning.

"Are you going back after this?"

"Yes. I leave first thing tomorrow morning. Off to Boston for the film and then on home to London. Killian and I have a wedding to plan." Milah tightened her hand on Belle's arm, squeezing her with newfound affection. "I'd like it if you could make it."

"I'd like that too." Belle nodded.

Milah smiled and made to leave, but she stopped and turned back to Belle once more. "Belle. You'll take care of him, won't you?"

Belle met her eyes and nodded to her. "Yes. I'll do my best. I promise."

Milah smiled, her expression suddenly playful and sharp. "Too right, you will. Break his heart and I'll come back to break _you."_

Belle laughed, "I believe you."

"You should. He was my first love, too. Remember that."

__________________________________

Milah left, and Belle began to follow their tracks in the snow of the cemetery. She kept her eyes on Gold as she made her approach. Snow crunched noisily under her feet and Belle was careful to avoid slipping before the grave markers and weeping angels that looked down upon her.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, anxious. She had been wrong to approach Milah alone and she'd reacted terribly to his wife's presence in the first place. He wasn't blameless, of course. Gold should have told her the truth from the start...but with little experience to fall back on, Belle wondered if this was a strange extension of what all relationships entailed: growing pains, learning to trust, sharing painful truths.

Gold straightened his posture as Belle came to stand in front of him, hands planted on the handle of his cane. It was a position of his that Belle knew well. He was expecting her anger and was bracing himself for it, defensive.

They stood, staring at each other, silent.

Gold's jaw worked, and his fingers gripped the handle of his cane so hard his knuckles were turning white. Belle was much the same, fidgeting under his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

Belle blinked at his sudden words, loud on the still air of the graveyard.

"I'm sorry for all of it, Belle. For not telling you about Milah when I first told you about Bae. It was unfair to you and I see how..." Gold cleared his throat as his voice began to tighten and his eyes began to tear, but he did not look away from her. "...how humiliating it must have been for you to find out about her the way you did. I have no excuse for hurting you. Throughout our time together, you've been nothing but open and supportive of me and I've rewarded you with keeping a tighter hold of my past. If I could go back and change things, I would. I would go back to the night I showed you my scars and I would tell you _everything._ I'm so sorry that I didn't."

Tears were flowing down his cheeks now, a grimace twisting his mouth. Belle didn't like that. His mouth should only ever be telling an interesting story, or kissing her.

Still, she had to know.

"Why couldn't you tell me? After you told me about Bae that first night and then, after, when you'd been to see Dr. Hopper and you would tell me stories about him from your album, why couldn't you tell me about Milah?"

Gold took in a shuddering breath, let his chest deflate slowly as he considered his answer. "Baelfire died because of me."

"No, please, that's not-"

"Belle. If I'd been faster, stronger, if I'd chosen a different place for us to stay or if I'd just chosen a different weekend for our outing, then Bae would still be alive. Nothing you or Milah or God Himself can say will change the truth of that night. _It's all my fault."_

Belle bit the inside of her cheek, forcibly stifling the scream building in her chest. And God, she did want to scream at him, tear into him for the blame he took onto himself. She _hated_ it. She hated that he carried the guilt, the loathing.

"But Milah didn't die."

"Oh, no. She did. We both did. Our son's death was my failure. Baelfire was one massive failure and I'll own it for the rest of my days. But Milah, she...she was a thousand failures over the course of a year. Every day there was a chance for me to try helping her through what we'd lost and instead I chose to ignore her or hurt her in any way I could. Milah didn't die in the fire and I made her regret it every day. _I punished her for living."_

"She told me."

"I know she did. It's disgusting, the way I treated her." Gold shook his head. "I was selfish and hateful, blind to everything but my own pain."

"She told me what she did to you, too. The things she said. She's not blameless in this."

"We were horrible to each other, yes. But I was her husband, I should've...Belle, I'd never been so cruel in all my life. The people here, you've heard so many warnings about me, but they have _no idea_ what a monster I can be. _I'd_ had no idea of what a monster I could be...and what's truly horrible is that a part of me _enjoyed_ hurting Milah. I know she enjoyed hurting me too. While we were hurting each other, we weren't thinking about all we'd lost."

"That's awful." Belle said plainly. It was awful. She knew this man as her friend and she'd grown to truly love him. The thought of him being cruel to his wife, and of Milah being cruel to him in turn - the love they'd shared twisting and spoiling into true hatred...yes, it was awful. Truly awful.

"I know it is. I lived it. I didn't want to tell you about Milah because I didn't want to explain how we'd torn into each other after the fire. How we fought, how we just...we absolutely _ruined_ what we'd been to each other, Belle. I couldn't tell you that after I'd already done so much to hurt you."

Belle took a step forward and put her hand over his on the handle of his cane. "What do you mean?"

"When I brought you into my house, I know there was damage to your reputation. I know that once it became known you were living with me, some people stopped visiting the library. I know people heard what your father yelled at you that day in the street, and I know it hurt you to feel that he thought so little of you after everything you've accomplished. As time has gone on, I've only made things worse."

Belle felt her throat constrict. Everything he said was true: her reputation had suffered from what he'd done, but the people Belle cared about knew the truth, they had come to see Gold as she saw him and they'd welcomed him with open arms. Anyone else, those who judged and gossiped - they were just noise.

"Do you mean New York, when everything changed?"

"Yes, when we came back to town the first thing I did was shut you out. Ignored you when you wanted to help, yelled at you in the study and I...I know I scared you that day." Gold said, meaning his rough kiss in the study. He would have taken things further, too far, the state he'd been in. "I had to leave the house, I was just disgusted with myself. I hadn't thought you'd find your way to me at the cabin and then I just, that night I couldn't stop myself and I hurt you and-"

"Stop it!" Belle cried out. She didn't move to embrace him but she tightened her grip over his hand until her own hand ached with the force of it. "I've told you before that you didn't hurt me that night. You didn't. Please, stop saying that. You're not that cruel man from years ago anymore, you're different now and I love you - can't you see that?"

"Belle." He brought his other hand over hers. "I'm the only reason you've cried in the last year. I love you so much, I do, please believe that...I love you and I'm terrified I'll ruin you, too." He confessed. He loved this woman before him and he'd loved his wife but given the space of a year, he'd put both women through hell.

Belle shook her head. "It's only when you've kept secrets, that's what's hurt me. I still want you, but I need you to trust me the way I trust you. Fully, completely. I know what you've been through. I understand why it was so impossible for you to tell me about your son, until I'd pushed you to it. I...I can understand why you didn't mention Milah. You wanted to tell me the truth in your own way, that's all you've ever wanted. I wish you would have been able to."

"If I could go back, I would change what I did. I'm so sorry, Belle."

Belle pressed her lips together, then took in a deep breath and looked down to the marker. "This is it. Bae's grave."

Gold looked down to the stone, the simple words Milah had chosen to describe all their son had been.

**Baelfire Neal Gold**

**Beloved Son & Friend to All**

"Yes. Milah made the arrangements for him while I was in the coma."

Belle's hand tightened over his once more, her gloved thumb stroking over his knuckles. "Did you want it to say something different?"

Gold swallowed, shrugged. "There isn't enough space for all I would have wanted it to say. I never imagined I'd have needed to plan for my son's headstone. It should have been the other way around."

Belle had nothing to say to that. They stood, silent, eyes unseeing before the grave marker.

After a time, Belle tugged at his sleeve. "Let's go home."

__________________________________

Their walk back to his house was made in silence, their pace steady and only slowed when Regina passed them in her car. She'd slowed in the street and slid down her window for a wave and a chat, but on seeing their tired, tear-stained faces, Storybrooke's mayor chose to drive on without a word.

Belle stopped in the foyer to hang her coat in the front closet while the man shuffled off toward his bedroom.

Gold shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and tumbled face first into his bed. He didn't bother about his cane or his tie or his shoes; he simply tipped into bed and fell asleep, emotionally wrung out, drained.

Just before he slipped off, he felt a warm weight settle itself into the bed at his side.

__________________________________

His sleep was black and empty. No sweet dreams, no bitter nightmares.

It was the rest his weary soul had craved.

When he woke, Gold found himself alone. He sighed, thinking that Belle might have gone back to her apartment.

Had he pushed her too far? Strained her trust to breaking?

He sat and took a deep breath, resolving to find her.

_I'll find you, Belle. I'll find you and beg that you take me back._

Yes.

Gold stood and moved into the bathroom, a plan forming. He would shower, shave, dress and head straight to Belle - beg and plead for her to return to the house with him...and if that didn't work, he'd revert to his bastard self and command her to return to him under the threat of his stripping the library of all funding.

_Let's not get ahead of ourselves._

Gold got up and headed into the shower. He closed his eyes and let the hot water course over him, the hard pressure beating into his scalp and over the muscles of his back. So engrossed in the punishing spray and his preoccupied thoughts of what he would say to Belle, the man jumped and yelped out, startled when he felt hands on his lower waist.

He spun and turned to see Belle, naked and pink from the heat already.

"Belle! I thought you left."

"No. I want to be here with you."

Gold surprised them both when he swept the woman into his arms, hugging her tight. "I love you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He told her, again and again, between kisses of gratitude over her cheeks, forehead and the crown of her head.

To his infinite relief and joy, Belle hugged him back, content in his arms.

"I know you are. I'm sorry too, I should have listened instead of pushing you away, I shouldn't have gone to see Milah, I should have waited."

"Oh, Belle, I-"

The man's words were captured by Belle's lips as she tipped her head up to kiss him. Her lips were warm, welcoming. Gold kissed her with his whole aching heart, seeking forgiveness and the haven she offered him here.

Soon, too soon, her lips left his and she dropped soft kisses down his jaw and throat. Gold felt a spike of lust but it was lost in the tide of comfort she was giving rise to. Gold held Belle against him, feeling that, after yesterday, the night he'd spent away from home and today, what he needed from her now more than anything else was just a hug.

Belle held him too, thankful for everything they had together. He wasn't upset with her, and after speaking with Milah Belle couldn't find it in herself to be upset with him. Had this been a different situation, Gold might have warned her against her soft heart but here he was, benefitting from it once again.

"Here, let me."

Gold opened his eyes when Belle pulled away, "Hmm?"

The woman reached for his soap; a shower gel she'd bought for him, a selfish gift because she absolutely loved the scent. She squeezed the gel onto a loofah (another of her gifts that had had Gold rolling his eyes, until she had volunteered to share a shower and use it on him - at her tempting suggestion, his eyes had grown dark and hungry within seconds) and began to lather over his right arm.

First his hand, then his forearm and up to his shoulder. Belle went on soaping him, smirking to see his face looking so serene as his eyes closed and his head tipped back. She moved the loofah over his exposed throat and then his chest and stomach before moving up to attend his left arm.

Belle stepped around him to wash his back, her eyes widening on seeing his scars flushed from the heat of the water. It made the marks stand out even more, much in the way that Milah's scars had seemed so much more prominent from being out in the cold earlier that day.

She shook her head and brought the loofah over his back, watching as the suds sluiced over the uneven skin. Belle kissed the back of his neck and guided him to stand centered under the spray to rinse. Gold brought her close to him again, hugging his love tight. His voice was soft, she could barely hear him above the shower. "Thank you, Belle."

Belle shook her head and kissed his cheek. "Will you do me?" The man raised a brow but Belle swatted his arm, right on the tattoo. "The loofah!"

"As milady commands." He joked, taking it from her. He mirrored her actions, squeezing gel into the loofah netting. "So long as you don't mind smelling like a man."

Belle shrugged, unbothered. "Smelling like a clean man until my next shower isn't the end of the world. Will you get my hair, too?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Belle thanked him with a kiss to the lips, and then gave over to let him attend her body. Gold took her hand and began with her right arm, as she had with him. He stroked the loofah up and down the length of her arm, covering her skin in the scented white suds. He coated her throat in bubbles and then moved down, circling the loofah over her breasts, watching them flush and tighten at the touch. The man was tempted to take her, right there in the shower, but he kept control; Belle had asked him to wash her, nothing more. He washed her other arm, then turned her so that he could wash her back.

He stepped aside to let the water fall over her body, the suds coming down to reveal clean, pink skin underneath. Gold kissed her shoulders and then reached for his shampoo.

This was a new intimacy for him, sharing the shower. His scars had prevented him from taking that step before, and sharing a bath that first time with Belle hadn't greatly endeared him to it. Still, what they were doing here, cleansing each other...he could grow to appreciate this.

He worked a lather into Belle's hair and then let her rinse herself, not wanting to risk the shampoo running into her eyes.

He stood and watched as she arched her back, tipping her head back under the spray. Her eyes closed, face calm, skin pink from the heat.

_Beautiful._

Belle finished and cut off the water, then stepped out of the shower, returning a moment later having wrapped a towel about herself and handing another towel over to him. Gold nodded his thanks and began to pat himself dry as Belle watched. "Will you wait in the room for me?"

"Aye."

Belle ducked out of the bathroom, disappearing into his bedroom and then out of sight.

Gold sighed, feeling a strange mix of contentment and anxiety.

Belle knew it all, now. He had no more secrets to hide, but there was still more for them to say. Things that had to be said, things he truly wanted to tell her. He felt open and light.

Seeing Milah, remembering Baelfire and the comfort Belle gave him was lifting his spirit. He was coming out of the dark that the winter brought over him but this time things were different, he could feel it.

It was all down to Belle, he knew.

Gold pulled on a gray t-shirt and a pair of flannel lounge pants, then sat on the edge of his bed to wait. And hope.

_______________________________

Belle shouldered open the bedroom door and saw Gold inside, waiting on her. He had his back to her as he looked out the window to the snow blanketing the world outside. He turned around to look at her and saw the tray she held, the sandwich, the teacups, cut fruit and biscuits atop it.

"What's all this?" He asked as Belle moved to join him on the bed with the tray between them.

"You have to eat. Have you had anything since before yesterday?"

Gold propped pillows up against the headboard for her, and thought on her question. He never ate on the anniversary of Bae's death, and he hadn't eaten anything since that morning. "Henry made breakfast this morning."

"Oh. I'd wondered where you'd disappeared to last night, after..."

He reached to the tray and took a blackberry. "It wouldn't have been right to stay with Milah or over at your apartment."

"You could have booked your own room at Granny's, they can always use the extra money."

"I didn't want to get the gossip going again." Gold said, then reached for a grape. "Besides, Regina's door is always open to me. We're close to family."

"Right. You've always been close." Belle acknowledged.

She chose not to mention the light rumors around Storybrooke that he was secretly Henry's father, the boy being the product of some illicit power-hungry affair between Gold and their alluring mayor.

"Closer than close. Once upon a time she was nearly my stepdaughter and I've always been in Henry's life."

"Always?" Belle asked. She took an orange wedge and an apple slice from the bowl.

"Yes. I was there before he was born. I helped look after Regina during her pregnancy, but the birthing..." Gold made an uncomfortable face. "That's the women's work, so I stayed in the waiting room until Cora came out to get me. She brought me into the room and they introduced me to the little man."

This surprised her. "I knew you and Regina were close, but I guess I hadn't realized. You really are family, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Gold reached for a cookie and was content to munch as Belle absorbed things.

"After Cora returned home, I took Regina under my wing. It worked, for a time. Regina and Henry stayed here while she commuted to Sunshire for school so that we could take turns caring for the baby. But then he started to call me 'Dada' and I couldn't take it. Regina chose to move out; we didn't want to overcomplicate things. From there we still remained close - closer than anyone would suspect, given the volume of our disagreements nowadays." He smiled wryly at this.

"What did she do after she left?"

"She moved into one of the buildings I'd bought and though we both took some distance I still looked over her and the boy. She worked to get Henry to call me 'Go' until he was old enough to address me properly. Familiar?"

Belle sipped at the tea and nodded. What he told her made a strange sort of sense. "All you've done for her...it's very kind."

Gold frowned and shook his head. "I saw something in that bossy, spoiled girl and I wanted her to achieve so much...and she did, with my guidance. God, but I've been so selfish with her."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm not a good man. Even while she was just getting started in her career, I could see a way to gaining more power in Storybrooke, through her, when the time was right." Gold looked away from Belle for a moment, but then he found his courage and looked back to her. She looked back at him, expectant. "Regina originally wanted to study poetry. Poetry! Can you imagine? I took the hard line with her, demanded she change her major to something more...I called it 'rewarding' but what I meant was 'more useful' to us both. A mind like hers, she liked the romantic idea of becoming a poet but I recognized something in her - a need for approval, a want for power. So I coaxed her, nudged her here and there, until she pursued the path I'd laid out for her. I ensured she'd have a secure future in Storybrooke for her and her son, but at the same time I used her gratitude and care for me to get what _I_ wanted."

Belle could see what he was doing, once more showing her the side that the whole of town had warned her against - Mr. Gold the cunning villain who benefitted from his every deal. However, if Belle were to ask Regina, she had no doubt that the woman had been in control of her life from the outset - Gold might have seen an opportunity but ultimately he had mentored and supported a young, single mother into a position that would have otherwise been impossible to attain.

"I did the same thing with you, Belle. I know you can see that. When I took you into my house it was because I wanted you for myself. I knew no other man would come near you while you lived with me." Gold told her.

Belle shook her head. "You think I wanted another man. It was always you."

Gold leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "Even if there had been another man, I still would have kept you with me and found a way to drive him away. That's how much of a bastard I can be."

Belle leaned up to kiss his forehead. She didn't know why he felt the need to remind her of his darker sides. She knew all too well. She'd seen it for herself, lived through it and loved him still. Did the man think he was the only one capable of being manipulative? It was all too human. Belle had indulged her own bad side during her younger years - she'd been a manipulative, vindictive, lying little monster whose exploits had gone far beyond normal teenage rebellion.

Gold was obeying her edict for trusting her with everything he was - for better, for worse, the truth of him.

Belle kissed his forehead again, then his lips. "Stop. I care about you. And at the heart of it, you are good man, Mr. Gold. If you weren't then you would have put me on my knees that first night."

Gold reared up, indignant. "I would never-!"

"-I know, and that's how I know you're good. What you went through was awful and for a very dark time in your life, it made you awful too. You and Milah both, but you're not bad people." She told him, stroking his hair.

"Belle...I had to make some sort of peace once I realized that they were never coming back. I built walls inside of me, buried myself in work and pushed people away. It worked on everyone but you." Gold nudged her foot with his, a small smile touching his lips.

Belle didn't pull away from his touch. She nudged his foot right back with her own. "I understand it now, why you wanted this big house, it was for your son to grow up here."

"Yes. I wanted to give him everything I could, everything a boy deserved. A big house in a safe neighborhood, a yard to play in. For all the good it did, in the end." He finished, sighing. Gold had no appetite but he took a bite of the sandwich she'd made.

"I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry."

"I know it doesn't do any good, but I am sorry. This was a family home once, but it's been you for such a long time."

Gold shrugged and nudged her foot again. "I'm not so lonely anymore."

Belle's jaw worked, and she hesitated before asking a question that had long been on her mind. "Since you told me about Bae and about your...well, about the way your life used to be, I've wanted to know...I'm sorry, this is difficult-"

"Belle, you can ask me questions. I was holding so much back from you and it wasn't fair. Please, ask me anything - I won't have any more secrets from you." Gold told her, trying to reassure. He was telling her the truth, he truly wanted to share with her, anything she asked.

"It's just...the night that Gracie came into the room while we were, ah, cuddling-"

_"Cuddling?"_

"-or, about to start cuddling," Belle reached over and pinched his arm. "You said that you and Milah wanted to make a sister for him. Were you two hoping for a big family?"

"Well, when we bought the house...yes, we wanted to fill this place up with children." He told her, thinking back to his younger self, the hopes he'd had, the little girls he'd promised to Milah. "My wife...Baelfire was our life, but we were trying for more children. We wanted a girl, and I would have loved a daughter, but Bae was all mine, my little mate. We would always joke that I would give Milah all the daughters she could want, so long as I had the boy at my side. We had been trying...we might have made a girl, but it all went away before we knew for sure."

Belle reached over and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing him tight. She couldn't tell Milah's secret, not now. She would keep it, carry the burden for what it was: the punishment for overstepping where she'd had no right.

_No. I won't give him another tragedy to blame himself for._

Belle smoothed her hair back, off her face. "Can I ask about Milah, how you met her, how it all started between you?"

He smiled, his eyes going distant for a moment. "Oh. It's been years since I've told anyone about her. Milah, she...we met in school, back in Glasgow."

"She was your high school sweetheart?"

"No, no, we didn't start out that way. We were close friends for years before things took that turn, she was my mate before she was my woman. We knew each other for years before marrying, and Bae came shortly after that."

"What was she like? Other than all the low-cut tops, I mean." Belle teased.

Gold realized she was referring to the exchange he'd shared with Milah in her room that morning. It must have been moments after Milah had told Belle of how their marriage, everything they'd shared, had fallen apart.

"You heard us joking about that?"

"I heard enough to know why you first wanted to talk to her: cleavage and soccer. At least you had your priorities straight."

Gold shrugged, laughing at himself a bit now. "Those are the priorities of every young Scottsman, believe me. But Milah, she was athletic, competitive. She made everything more fun. We played football after class, sometimes we'd skip out of school to grab an ice cream or a pint and kick about at the pier. She was artistic and when she wasn't playing football or running track she was always done up. Her hair and makeup, the whole lot."

"Sounds like a dreamgirl." Belle remarked.

"Well, her boyfriend at the time seemed to think so."

Belle's eyes widened. "She had a boyfriend while she was skipping out with you?"

"Not for long. Clearly I was the better choice." Gold said smugly.

"Clearly." She rolled her eyes.

"After school we stayed close and...one thing lead to another...I don't even remember how we moved from mates to more than that, we just fell into it so easily." Gold blinked himself out of those memories. "She became a makeup artist for a city theater, even worked on a few local television productions. Before the baby she was a rep for some cosmetics agency and she did very well there."

Throughout his story, Belle had set the tray aside and moved closer to him, resting against his chest, still clasping his hand in her own.

"She was very brave to go back to cosmetics after the, you know, her scars." Belle said. If she'd been in Milah's shoes, she doubted that she would have had the courage to return to an industry that was based solely on a woman's appearance.

"I thought so too. On any other day with all she can do with the lotions and the powders and all, you'd never even know she had a flaw. But she keeps her face bare when she comes back here. For years I thought she was doing it to punish me, you know, force me to see her scars and know I caused them. I've come to understand that she keeps her face bare for herself, to fully face her past." Gold said, bringing his arms around Belle to hold her closer.

"You miss her." Belle said plainly. It was not a jealous accusation or a sneer against him. She was only trying to understand his feelings.

"I do." Gold stroked up and down her back. "Sometimes. Yes, I do miss her. I miss my friend, the way she was when we were happy. We argued, like any pair. Always over the little, stupid things. But I loved her enough that there was no one else I would have rather argued with. After she left, I missed everything about her, even our stupid, pointless bickering over whose turn it was to pick up milk from the shop."

Belle leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"They were everything to me, Belle. I made my peace with what happened as best I could, and tried to have relationships over the years, thinking I was ready to try again, but..."

"You weren't ready." She supplied.

"No. And you know, the strange part of it was that Milah wanted me to start again, she even met Cora and Regina once and she liked them for me. She gave me a right slap and told me to get on with it, that they could be my second chance. But I knew it wasn't right. I couldn't go through with it." Gold confessed.

Belle took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Regina's mother. It's so strange to think that you might have been Regina's stepfather."

Gold chuckled. "It's not that strange, I practically am already. I'm certainly the only father Henry has ever known. I cared for Cora very much, and Regina too, but I was selfish with her. I needed a rival to distract me so I built one in Regina."

Belle laughed at that, "You created a monster!"

"There are days I would be sure to agree." Gold said, and he kissed her forehead. "I wasn't in love with Cora, I knew I wasn't and I couldn't marry her when she deserved better, a man who could love her with his whole heart. I wasn't ready to take that step."

Belle cleared her throat. "And Regina? If you ended your relationship with Cora, then how did Regina come to know about your past?"

"Oh. Well, after I broke from Cora, Regina came round to my house, demanding answers."

Belle remembered all too well how demanding Regina had been with her the day they'd returned from New York. "Yes, she sure has that habit."

"Yes. She'd ridden her bike all the way here from her mother's house on the other side of Storybrooke, pounded on the front door until I let her inside. She refused to be treated like a child, she wanted to know everything...if I hadn't been drinking, then I wouldn't have told her any of it, but she caught me at the bottom of a bottle and though I didn't tell her everything, I told her enough that she understood my reasons, or as best she could at that age. After that, I spoke with Cora and I promised I would be there for anything she or Regina needed."

"You've kept that promise."

"I've done my best. Cora and I were able to remain on good terms though she was disappointed that I couldn't move forward with her. Rather than stepfather and husband, I became a family friend. I think friendship was the best thing for all of us, in the end." Gold reflected.

Belle shook her head. "Your heart was broken, but not beyond repair."

"No. I could move on but I never felt that there was much for me to move on to. I didn't think I could love that way again. Until you became more than just the librarian, you came into my shop and you became my friend. And then, again, for the first time in so long, I wanted more."

"You had a funny way of showing that." Belle said wryly and she tickled his ribs.

Gold squirmed away, "Oh? You mean men don't kidnap the birds they like these days?"

"You didn't exactly keep me locked in a tower, but no. That's not how men usually show interest." Belle teased him, rolling onto her stomach beside him in the bed while he remained reclined, sitting up against the headboard to face her.

"You're right, I should have sent a tweet or some message through Snapchat, Vine or Instagram, would that have been better?"

Belle bit her tongue - how did Gold know about those apps? Belle didn't even have accounts with them! "Uh, that's the other extreme. The world wouldn't have exploded if you'd just said you wanted to take me to dinner. I would have said yes."

Her words were too true, Belle would have thrilled to join Gold for dinner...but while this winding, bizarre path they'd taken to love hadn't been easy, it had been wholly and completely _theirs._

"I wanted to ask you, but I was warned off by one thing or another. It seemed every time I wanted to touch the subject, someone would interrupt. It's a miracle I managed to ask you out for that day in Sunshire." Gold remarked, thinking back on all the interruptions at his shop - tenants, Regina, even baby Grace. He ought to have just locked the door right behind Belle when she stepped into the shop and asked her to dinner. So much time they'd wasted.

Belle dipped her head, laughing at him, "Oh, please, you took me to a warehouse first! You said the only reason you had to go to Sunshire in the first place was for your work."

"I thought it was a brilliant cover." Gold grinned, his first true smile that day.

"It was. I mean, it worked, didn't it?" Belle reached to him, taking his hand and pressing his palm to her cheek. "You got me in the end, Mr. Gold."

Gold reached for her, pulling her in close and nuzzling her throat. "I'm so glad to hear that, Miss French."

The man held her, and grew serious, all their teasing aside. "I love you Belle, I love you. I do. You're not just my friend or my second chance, you're...I know I've hurt you and I don't deserve your forgiveness, but if you do choose to stay with me, then this could be the love you deserve, I just need time."

Belle hugged him in close, her heart swelling, aching for him. He had been through so much, and so much of it had risen to the fore this year and shattered the careful boundaries he'd built over the years.

Given all he'd suffered and how she loved him, Belle wouldn't let his past ruin what they had now. She had terms. Gold would not hide himself from her any longer, he would put his trust in her and Belle would give her all for him. This is what love was: forgiveness, trust and warmth.

She leaned forward to him and kissed his lips, just once, softly.

"I love you. I'll give you all the time you need."


	46. Resolution

Archie Hopper thought of himself as a nice, simple man. Easing into his mid-forties, he was content with the life he had even as he remained a bachelor and had fathered no children. He had his friends, his little hobbies, his dog, and a career that was a genuine help to many people in Storybrooke.

Life in a such a small town had grown comfortably predictable. His patients were more like friends who paid for advice, and their issues were of a narrow range spanning between feelings of guilt over longing after a married man (poor Mary Margaret Blanchard) to love triangles exposed at the hospital...though with Dr. Whale it had become something of a love hexagon, and really more of an HR issue at this point.

Yes, Dr. Hopper's life was predictable, comfortable and all together pleasantly boring. Or, it had been, until he'd come into the office and been told that his schedule had been rewritten to accommodate the last two names he'd expected to see, and yet there they were smack dab in the center of his calendar: **Mr. Gold & Belle French.**

Archie had swallowed, thanked his secretary and retreated to his office to hyperventilate into a paper bag, as he did before each of his sessions with _that man._ The doctor tried not to think of their first meeting, decades ago, but how could he forget how quickly he'd let their session spiral out of control? How furious Mr. Gold had been, how explosively violent?

Of course, that had been twenty years past, before Mr. Gold had been...well, Mr. Gold as Storybrooke knew him now. Archie remembered the younger man Mr. Gold had been, so heavily scarred and still unused to his broken body's limitations. He never should have been assigned to Mr. Gold's case; he'd been far too inexperienced and ill-prepared for what had awaited him in that hospital room.

He'd seen the man recently, only short sessions in which Archie had recommended a few exercises to aid Mr. Gold in discussing his son. After the break-in at his shop that had lead to the mass revelation of his son, he had assumed - correctly - that the man had finally wanted to find a way to openly speak of his tragedy.

Still.

_Why now? Why with Belle?_

Archie glanced at the clock. He could ask Mr. Gold himself when the man arrived, which should be within the hour.

That left him just enough time to clear his office of any sharp or heavy objects.

______________________________

The clock struck 10am and Archie jumped up from his desk as the door to his office opened, precisely on time and not a second too late. His chest clenched on seeing the man enter, dressed as was typical for him, very formal in a tailored suit and matching waistcoat of charcoal gray, a burgundy shirt and black tie complete with a glinting gold tie pin.

Archie had firsthand knowledge of Mr. Gold's fury, but the cold and calculated man he had become over the years was far more intimidating to him. He knew that Mrs. Gold had disappeared shortly after the first anniversary of their son's death, and from that point on he had borne silent witness to the man closing himself off, burying himself in work and amassing wealth and power in place of any known personal connections.

Until just recently.

Belle.

Beautiful and bright, Belle French stepped in behind Mr. Gold and graced Archie with a smile, both in greeting and knowing reassurance. Clearly Mr. Gold had told her of the history that he and Archie shared. Somehow, the thought was comforting.

"Ah, Mr. Gold. I'm glad that you've scheduled another session." Archie said as he stepped closer, smiling to show he welcomed them both.

Gold, for his part, was as sweet as ever as he ignored Archie's greeting and gestured to the woman at his side. "You know Belle?"

Belle gave a laugh, "It's a small town, we've met! How are you, Archie?"

"Good, good. I'm thinking about getting another dog." He told her, and distantly he wondered if he shouldn't be looking for a mate for himself rather than for his pet. If Mr. Gold could find love then maybe there was hope for everyone.

"Oh! Another Dalmatian?" Belle asked. She loved dogs as much as the next girl.

"Maybe, maybe. I think Pongo could use a girlfriend, a woman around the house makes all the difference. I think Mr. Gold can attest to that." Archie ventured, hoping a touch of humor might lighten the grave expression on the other man's face.

No luck there, Gold only sauntered over to the well-worn sofa so their session could begin.

Archie gestured for Belle to sit, and then he moved to his chair across from them both. "Well, have a seat. Mr. Gold, I've seen you a few times recently, but Belle, I haven't seen you in years."

The woman nodded. "Yes, I know. Kind of hard to start family therapy when half the family refuses to show up."

Again, Belle used humor to deflect away from her father's misdeeds against her.

"Oh, Belle, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, Archie, you're fine." Belle waved off his concern. "If you can believe it, being in prison has been the best thing to happen to dad in a long time. He's written me three letters so far, long letters. He signed up for some starter career classes and he's entered into a rehab program."

Gold took her hand and squeezed it gently, his thumb stroking her knuckles. He might hate the man but he was glad that Moe was making some kind of progress, for Belle's sake.

Archie smiled warmly. "That's wonderful, Belle. I want your father to get better, for your sake and his. I mean that."

"I know you do, thank you." Belle returned. It felt so good to speak of her father in a positive way for once.

Archie took up a stenopad, "Well, since you're both here why don't you share the reason you opted for a joint session?"

"I-"

"We-"

Gold smiled at Belle and squeezed her hand again. "Ladies first."

She nodded and cleared her throat. "All right, I'll start. Archie, I don't know what the two of you have discussed about our relationship. I mean, I knew you'd had a few sessions but I'd assumed that they were mostly dealing with Baelfire."

"He knows about us, Belle. Or, he knows my side of things." Gold told her.

"I know that the two of you were friends for about a year and that through an... ah, _incident_ concerning your father, you came to stay with Mr. Gold."

Belle shrugged. "In a nutshell, yes."

"I was also given to understand that in the time you stayed with Mr. Gold, your relationship remained strictly platonic. Roommates, in a sense."

"I don't know about _strictly_ platonic, but that's about right. Things between us became, ah, intimate in the late summer. Best birthday ever." Belle winked.

Beside her, Gold bit his lip to keep from smiling.

"And you've been open in your relationship since that time."

"Yes. My friends knew about us before the rest of the town. The real story, not whatever the gossip mill put out." Belle was quick to add.

Archie raised a brow at that. "Did it bother you, knowing you were the subject of mean-spirited rumors?"

Belle shifted on the sofa. "Ah...I'd be lying if I said I didn't care at all, but after I came clean to my close friends I wasn't too bothered by what other people were saying. I think my father's antics all over town these last several years helped me build up a pretty thick skin."

"Well, you can be pleased to know that the two of you are old news." What Archie said was true; being attuned to the people in town meant staying attuned to whatever held the people's attention. For awhile, Belle and Gold had been all anyone could talk about, but now their unlikely love story was taken in stride.

"Old news, new news - why should we be news at all? We're just people. People fall in love everyday." Belle dismissed. Really, she was glad the rumors had died down but that didn't mean that her relationship with Gold had become any easier.

"That's true, but unfortunately this is Storybrooke and-"

"-unfortunately I am Mr. Gold." Gold finished Archie's thought with one of his own.

"No, Mr. Gold, that's not what I meant."

"It was, in a sense." Gold insisted. "Belle has forgiven me even if the town never will."

Archie leaned forward, "Now that's interesting, Mr. Gold. Do you often feel that you have a need to earn forgiveness from Belle, that your involvement together is consequential to her?"

"Yes."

"In what way?"

Gold's frown deepened. "Ah, the damage to her reputation and the gossip that followed after she first came to live with me." He turned to face the woman. "I wanted you with me, so I saw the way to that end and threatened your father to ensure you'd stay."

She nodded, her hand still in his. "You did, but now I understand why, what my father did to drive you to that place."

Archie was glad for this, the session was off to an open start. Clearly they'd spoken on these issues with each other before. "So you have been more open in your communication concerning..."

Gold cleared his throat. "Yes. I told her about Bae and we've continued the album exercise you recommended."

"That is great progress, really remarkable given where you were emotionally just a year ago." Archie said. Not that he knew personally, but his summation was based on what little Gold himself had told him, of how he had been mourning his son alone and in secret for years.

"Yes. It takes a woman, I suppose." Gold said, echoing the doctor's earlier words back to him.

At that, Archie shook his head. "I've found gender has little to do with opening up emotionally. Yes, you two love each other, no one's doubting that, it's plain for all to see. But more than a romantic love, there had to be a genuine degree of trust for you to have told Belle of your son, given that so few people even knew of him in the first place."

Belle swept her hair behind her ear. "He loves me and I do feel that he trusts me...to a certain extent, anyway."

Archie leaned forward, looking from Belle to Gold and back again. "What do you mean?"

Gold took a deep breath. He had explained himself as best he could to Belle and he would do it again, here, his words paving the path to her understanding and forgiveness. "I wasn't able to tell Belle about Milah. I should have told her everything the night I told her of our son but something in me...it felt that it would be too much for one night, just misery heaped on more misery. So I held back."

Concern was clear in Archie's face; he sympathized as best he could, but he could never relate directly to Mr. Gold's pain. "You've been through some genuine trauma, Mr. Gold, and sometimes, no matter how much we may love someone, it can be the hardest thing in the world to share that trauma, those private miseries."

"Yes. I wanted to share with you, Belle. I did. I still do but I was selfish these last several weeks. It's the winter. I can manage for most of the year but in the winter it feels like a cloud comes over me, it makes everything darker and I just feel...I'm either choking on the memories or I refuse to feel anything." Gold told her, shamed and struggling to find the right words to express emotions he'd spent years training himself to keep private.

The doctor nodded, encouraging Gold to keep talking. "With the anniversary of something so traumatic, the winters will always be a difficult time of the year for you."

Belle lifted Gold's hand to her lips for a kiss. Archie felt heat flood his cheeks - it was only a kiss to the hand, but he felt as if he'd just been made to witness something deeply intimate between them. "I'm truly touched that you've shared as much as you have with me."

Gold pulled his hand back from her, feeling unworthy of her all over again. "It wasn't enough. I should have told you about Milah."

"You still could." Archie said.

Belle turned to him. "What?"

"Mr. Gold has related to me a great deal of regret that he wasn't able to tell you, in his own way, about his past. Would you like to try a role-playing exercise now?"

Both Belle and Gold nodded their silent assent.

"All right, then. Belle, Mr. Gold, just close your eyes and clear your minds. It might be difficult, but just go back to that night. You're in Belle's apartment and you've just told her about poor Baelfire, what losing him has meant to you, how the loss has shaped who you've become. Mr. Gold, I'd like you to turn to Belle now and tell her in your own way, in your own words, about your wife."

"Ex-wife." Gold corrected, eyes still closed.

"Ex-wife of barely a week." Belle muttered under her breath.

Gold heard her, though, and nudged her foot with his.

Archie adjusted his glasses. "Sorry, I didn't catch that?"

Belle shook her head, "Nothing."

Gold took a deep breath, readying himself. He searched for the correct words to tell her the truth, his way, the way he should have those months ago. The office was quiet as Belle and the doctor waited for him to speak.

The man tensed, fighting the impulse to hobble out the door and hide away from all this. Belle stroked over his left hand, silently comforting, encouraging him here. Gold thought, and then Gold spoke. "Belle, I need to tell you something. I know that I should have told you sooner, the night we...the night I told you about my son."

Belle nodded, ready to hear anything he had to say. "You can tell me."

"Thank you. I want to believe that, truly. It's not that I don't trust you, because I do. This is...so difficult. All of it, it's jus been..."

"It's all right." Belle reassured him. "You can tell me, just take your time."

Gold tried to focus, forcing the silent doctor from his thoughts and concentrated on telling Belle his truth. "I've told you about my son. I didn't get to tell you how I would have liked, but I want to thank you for listening when I told you about him that night in your room. It's meant so much to me...that may very well be why I couldn't tell you about Milah. I didn't want you to feel burdened with more of my past or threatened by the life she and I shared."

"I understand. You've been carrying this by yourself for so long."

"It's been too long. Milah and I...when we first struck out on our own, we were ready to take a big bite of it, us against the world, you know, the way all young newlyweds are. After Bae came, we had the life we wanted. We had it all. Losing him...ruined us, Belle. It broke us."

The young woman nodded, silent though tears had begun to track down her cheeks. Gold hated to see her upset, but he pressed on.

"We lost our son and then we spent a year attacking each other and hurting ourselves for it. She couldn't stay here, the memories were torture for her. I felt I couldn't leave, the memories were all I had left of him. Leaving our house would betray that. Milah and I, we came to an understanding. She wanted to go back to Scotland and went off to stay with her brother in Lochdubh, while I stayed here. I couldn't leave the home we'd built together. I knew we could never have what we once did, but a piece of me...I knew it could never happen, but a piece of me was still waiting for the nightmare to end, for Baelfire to come running in through the front door with his backpack and his scraped knees, wanting his after-school snack and to play with me and the dog in the backyard. A piece of me was waiting for Milah to come back, too." He admitted quietly. "Milah as I knew her, back when she was happy and teasing and bright. But I know it won't happen. It can't. And, somewhere in the years, I stopped waiting. Milah found Killian and his girls - she found her second chance and I am happy for her. After what I put her through, I only want the best for her. She deserves to be happy. Before she left, Milah and I promised each other and we promised the spirit of our son that we would always come back together, for him. To lay flowers at his grave and be together to remember everything we had."

"Does it help?" Belle asked, her voice choked and low.

Gold sighed. "It took us years to grow as civil as what you saw when she was here. The first few times we met, we nearly attacked each other in the cemetery. There have been years where we didn't see each other at all. There have been a few years when we could barely stand to say a word to each other so we would just meet up in her room and share a bottle of whatever was strong at hand. It hasn't been healthy and it hasn't been the right way to deal with what we've lost, we know that. But we have, finally, come to be in a good place with each other...it's taken decades to arrive where we are now. That's what I might have said, Belle, if only I'd been able." Gold finished.

His explanation lacked the depth and fury of what Milah had told to Belle, but they had been his own words, halting and sad and perfect. Belle kissed his hand again, and reached to him and swiped away tears that had escaped Gold's eyes. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me."

Gold surprised her by thanking her in return. "Thank you for not giving up on me. Any sane woman would have long before now."

Belle laughed through her tears. "When you find something worth fighting for, you never give up."

Gold sighed. "I don't deserve you, Belle."

Belle frowned at that. "You say things like that too often. It...sometimes makes me feel like you expect me to think this has all been a mistake and just walk out."

Archie, who had been quiet throughout Gold and Belle's exchange, chose to speak. "Mr. Gold do you see yourself as undeserving of Belle's love or, ultimately, this relationship that could lead to a second marriage, the potential for more children?"

Gold's eyes widened. "We haven't, ah-"

Belle shook her head, "We haven't talked about any of that. I plan to move back in when my lease ends and maybe we'll discuss it then."

"I want a future with you, Belle. I do."

"I love you and I know you blame yourself for everything that happened, but you do deserve this, what we have. You're the first man I've wanted anything real with, my first serious boyfriend."

Gold abruptly cringed at that most hated word. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

Belle nudged his foot. "I know, that's why I do it."

Archie smiled at this glimpse of their humor. "I think the two of you are in a relatively good place and you've already made a great amount of progress on your own. Mr. Gold, there is no easy fix for the pain you still feel, the sorrow you carry over the death of your son and the dissolution of your marriage. You kept everything bottled inside and it took Belle coming into your life to bring down your walls, to a certain extent. You've made the right choice to open up, though I understand with the way the situation played out you were essentially forced into telling Belle the truth."

"I was going to tell her."

"When?"

"Before the winter." Gold said archly. He turned away from Archie, returning his focus to Belle. "I would have told you before the winter, before the cloud came over me. I would have had you over to the house, we'd have had a sit-down in the study where I'd kept so many of the memories and I would have told you."

"I would have listened. I'm sorry that you didn't get to tell me the way that you wanted, but the truth is out here between us now and I want us to move forward in a healthy way." Belle said decisively. She really and truly wanted this, a life and a future with him; it could only happen once he believed himself worth loving again.

Archie smiled at them. "The basis for every healthy relationship is open communication. Belle, you said that you'd be moving into Mr. Gold's house soon?"

"Yes. I have another few weeks left on my lease, but I've given notice and already started to pack."

He nodded. "From here on out, I recommend a total honesty policy between the two of you. This can be difficult for both parties, but you can't forge a healthy way forward with secrets and insecurities between you."

Gold took her hand. "I'll try for you Belle, I promise."

"I want you to try for _you,_ because you deserve to be happy with me."

Archie raised a brow at the woman. "And Belle, what about you?"

Belle faltered, "Er, what about me?"

"Do you likewise feel that you've earned this love, that you're worthy of being happy?"

"Yes. I want this to work, I believe it will as long as there are no more surprises. If we're honest I know this can work."

"I will be." Gold told her. It was an old instinct to hide his feelings but he would fight that impulse. For Belle first. Then for himself.

"This is so wonderful to see, for both of you. But Belle, I was curious if you and Mr. Gold have discussed...ah, the issues that initially brought you in." Archie asked carefully. He wouldn't bring up anything that Belle would prefer to keep to herself, but he had to ask.

Belle cleared her throat, suddenly uneasy now that the focus of the room was shifting toward her and her own shaded past. "I've told him about my mother. Even showed him her page online."

"I see. And what prompted you to finally show him?"

Belle thought on that question. "Well...back when we were just friends I never wanted to bring it up. Not something to brag about, my family. I never even told him who my father was, though I'd mentioned picking up work at _Game of Thorns."_

"When did you first mention your father?"

"It was the first night I brought him to my apartment. We'd been in his shop playing a game but we had to stop when there was a blackout from the storm. I was going to walk but he insisted on driving me home, so I invited him up for coffee." Belle summarized quickly. She wasn't sure she liked this, speaking of her parents and how they had shaped her life. In fact she mirrored Gold's earlier thoughts, and pictured bolting out the door, running out of Dr. Hopper's office, maybe running all the way out of Storybrooke and taking refuge somewhere in Sunshire.

"Was that a euphemism?" Archie asked, cheeks suddenly as red as his hair.

Gold scoffed. "No, it was just coffee. Though I wouldn't have minded the other..."

Belle slapped Gold's wrist. "Hey! What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"Oh, I already know." Gold returned, all sly.

Belle rolled her eyes and got the discussion back on track. "Anyway! We were just talking and it kind of came up in conversation. I knew he and my father had gotten into it before so I was worried he wouldn't want to be friends anymore. I was happy that wasn't the case."

"Wild horses couldn't have kept me away, Belle."

"My mother...I had been keeping her a secret, but I was so grateful when he was opening up to me about Baelfire that I wanted to show I trusted him enough to tell about what happened to me. He knew my mother was gone but I hadn't revealed the details."

"Would you care to divulge those details now, Belle? I'd like to know more, if you'll let me."

"When I was a teenager, my mother just walked out. She and my father were never happy but I hadn't thought she would just leave. Or, not in the way she chose to do it. When I say she just left, that's exactly what she did. She never left me a note, she just took her purse and left. I'd had no idea what had even happened to her until a few years ago. When I found her online I could hardly believe my eyes."

Archie leaned forward. "What did you find online?"

 _"That woman_ picked up and started over in Miami." Gold scowled.

"She began a new life. I see. Belle, how did that make you feel?" Archie asked.

Here, Belle found herself struggling with her words. She had spoken with Gold, but only that one night. Belle didn't want to dwell on her excuse of a mother, she was more comfortable with helping Gold than with focusing on her own past. Perhaps that was telling. Her father had provided her plenty of trouble - Belle had repaid her mother for her abandonment by refusing to even think much of the woman at all.

Now, though, Belle found herself faced with her feelings on all fronts.

"I...I was so angry I didn't know what to do, I threw some things in my room. It started to feel claustrophobic so I ran out and kept running. I ran over five miles, then walked back. I was completely exhausted by the time I got back home. I had used my time on the walk to think, to calm down enough before I could send her a message on the site. I asked why she left and all she said was that she didn't want to be unhappy. I've sent her plenty of other messages since then but she's never responded, I guess she just can't be bothered." Belle finished bitterly. She could feel Gold's anger - he had been robbed of his fatherhood and so held complete contempt for any parent that could dismiss the blessing of their children.

The man held her hand tighter in silent support.

"Do you feel that this abandonment has played into your relationships?"

The question riled her. This was a conversation she'd had with her friends several times over the years, how her upbringing had shaped her life and everyone who touched it. Belle knew all too well that she was drawn to Gold, in part, because despite his stubborn streak, the man was _nothing_ like her father.

"I've tried not to let my parents define me. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to associate me with my father, so I cleaned up my act before high school was over, separated from him as soon as I could afford - barely - to live out on my own. I'm my own woman, but I can't say that what happened has had no effect at all." She said carefully.

"What you had to live with, your parents' dysfunctional marriage and then your mother's abandonment, Belle, there's no one in the world who could be untouched by that." Archie said, trying to reassure her.

Like Gold, Archie had to keep his anger in check when it came to Belle's story. Her troubles were unique in Stroybrooke - abandoned and neglected, yet she had forged ahead no matter who tried to hold her back. He counted himself lucky to be her friend, she was something of an inspiration.

Belle took a breath, "I admit that it has made me feel insecure. He had his reasons for not pursuing me," she said, meaning Mr. Gold. "But there was nothing to stop me from asking him out first. Only there _was._ The long and short of it was that I was afraid he'd say no. But more than afraid of him just saying no, I was afraid he'd say yes and expect...I thought he might...it would have ended our friendship if he came to think I was just another person trying to worm my way into his life, maybe through sex, to get at his money. My father yelled that that was what everyone thought about me after I'd started living in his house, but really it was something I thought he might have seen in me already."

"Belle, I never though that of you. Not for a moment."

"And I never would have rejected you if you'd told me the truth about Milah." Belle returned.

Archie nodded at them both, noting the time. "I think some genuine progress has been made here today. Did you want to schedule another session, make this a regular appointment or would you prefer to see me on an as-needed basis?"

Gold reached for his cane, grip tight on the handle. "I think...I'd like to come back when we feel the need. Belle?"

Belle's eyes were fixed on the tips of her pumps. "I don't know. Can I think about it?"

"Of course. My door is always open and you both have my number. Barring that, you can usually find me in Granny's around lunchtime." Archie told them.

"Yes, you and half the town." Gold replied as he stood and shook his hand. "Good day Dr. Hopper, and thank you."

Belle stood and shook the doctor's hand with a smile, but Gold noted the smile never reached her eyes.

_________________________________

They were silent as they left Dr. Hopper's office, silent as they exited the building and moved toward Gold's car. He reached for his keys but stopped and turned to Belle, feeling the need to ask, "Belle, would you come home with me?"

It was only mid-day, but Gold didn't want to be alone. He wanted Belle back in the house with him.

Belle shook her head, eyes distant. "No, not yet."

He stepped closer to her. "Are you all right?"

The woman took a deep breath. "I don't know. Dr. Hopper has given me a lot to think about. There are things I need to do, for me, before I can go back with you."

Gold nodded at that, though he wondered what all she had to do that he couldn't be a part of. Whatever it was, he wanted to help. He felt it was his place. Still, "I understand. Can I drive you back to your apartment?"

Again Belle refused him. "No. I'm going to walk, clear my head a bit. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Belle."

He stood watching as she moved down the street, and for a few moments more after she'd turned the corner and vanished from sight.

_______________________________

Gold went about his day, picking up at the pawnshop for a half-day after therapy. Therapy. What he'd viciously rejected decades ago he was now embracing; he did not do this only for his relationship with Belle, but he was doing it for himself.

Very few customers came to the shop. Only two. Gold sold a bracelet and a pair of binoculars but he was otherwise left to his own devices as he preferred it. After sending a few notices by e-mail and securing all due deposits, Gold found himself looking to the front door of the shop and wistful for the days of the innocent friendship he'd shared with Belle.

Just then, he would be happy to go back to when things between them were so...uncomplicated. He had been the one to complicate things with his secrets, but he had told all. His dead son. His living wife. _Ex-wife,_ he corrected himself. The year of pure misery after the fire. The cold years that followed, his few relationships spread throughout. The bizarre co-parenting balancing act he'd maintained with Regina for Henry's benefit...and his own.

His vault of secrets was empty.

The feeling was oddly freeing, but what good was it to be free if Belle was unsure about him now?

The anxiety he'd been trying to ignore since they parted ways that morning took a tight hold over his heart. The therapy session had been meant to strengthen their connection but he worried the strain he'd put on their relationship might have been too much.

_I pushed her too far - keeping Milah a secret and then what Milah told her, seeing the grave..._

Gold sighed, shifted his weight, restless. He didn't want to be in the shop any longer. He hadn't seen Belle pass by one way or the other and he doubted she would come to him the way she had in simpler times, armed with exotic tea and a smile.

The man moved about the shop, locking the backdoor, drawing the blinds, securing the register and then setting the front sign to 'closed'. He'd had enough of the dim shop.

If he was going to be bored and miserable, he'd damn well do it in the comfort of his own home.

_______________________________

The day passed slowly, the majority of it Gold spent out on the back deck of the house enjoying the crisp fresh air as he sipped a brandy and tried to picture a happy future to share with Belle. With the weight of his secrets and his winter depression having lifted, he was able to think more clearly. His life was no longer all about him - there was Belle to think of, and what she wanted out of life and what would make her happy, that was important to him.

The man glanced over at the chirp of his cell, a new text. From Milah, surprisingly.

A picture of her hand with a new diamond adorning it. A ring of yellow gold, the diamond in the center ringed with tiny garnets. This new ring was a fine match to her old necklace, and Gold had to give an appreciative smile at that. Killian was a good man to make such an effort in linking her past with their future.

He tapped down to read her message.

**Killian and I will be married this summer. You & Belle are invited.**

He hummed lightly and tapped back a quick reply. **Congratulations, I wouldn't miss it for the world - someone has to warn poor Killian what he's in for.**

Milah's sharp reply took no less than two minutes to chirp back to his cell, and when he saw it genuine laughter bubbled up through his chest.

So strange and wonderful to know that though he and Milah could never be what they once were, they had managed to become friends all over again.

__________________________________

The evening was spent in lonely peace, if not quiet. Gold let his playlist echo through the ground floor of his house as he went about a few mundane chores - dusting, vacuuming and taking out the garbage - before he started on dinner. He was not particularly hungry but he was pleased enough with the distraction.

He was just winding down for the night when the doorbell chimed.

His heart kicked in his chest when he opened it to find Belle on the other side. She had changed her clothes from what she'd been wearing during the session with him that morning, her hair and makeup were fresh. She was holding a large shopping bag and she looked a touch nervous to see him.

"Hey."

"Belle, you came back." Gold smiled and stepped aside, welcoming her home.

The woman walked in and paused in the foyer, her expression still unsure.

Gold shut the door behind her and tilted his head at her hesitation. She had him feeling unbalanced now, himself. "I just made dinner if you're hungry. Do you need anything?"

Belle took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip as she regarded him. "I'm...hold me."

Gold stepped forward, any thought of hesitation gone away as he drew Belle into his arms and oh, the way she fit against him, her warmth, the scent of her - it was _right._

He hugged her tight, reassured as Belle nuzzled in closer. He felt her lips on his throat, just a soft sweet kiss.

Gold released her but kept his hands cupped over her shoulders, his eyes meeting her own. "Are you all right, Belle?"

The woman looked back at him, eyes bright with unshed tears.

_Please, please, be all right, Belle. Even if it's not with me, I need to know that you'll be all right._

Belle nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Yes, I'm all right."

"What about us, are _we_ all right?"

_Please, please, Belle..._

Belle stepped forward, cupped his face and kissed him fiercely. Her lips pressed to his, kissing with animal passion and then retreating into soft pecks of sipping sweet touches. Gold held her and returned kiss for kiss, loving her and loving this moment so completely.

They broke, and Belle pressed her forehead against his, their breathing a bit heavy, sharing the air. "Yes. We're all right."

Gold nodded, "I'm so glad. I was worried when you left."

Belle pulled back from him and moved into the living room. "I didn't mean to make you think...after our session, I just felt like I needed some time alone."

Gold stood in the doorway and watched as she set her bag on the couch and sat down. She looked back to him and gestured for him to join her. "Needing time alone after visiting the doctor, that's understandable."

"I took the time and cleaned house. Literally and metaphorically. I cleaned my apartment top to bottom, stacked all my boxes, packed the rest of my clothes." Belle looked back at him, her eyes earnest. "I'm ready to come back, if you'll have me."

Gold sank into the cushions and took her hand into his, kissing her palm. "God, Belle, yes. Come home, please, I never wanted you to leave in the first place. All this time you've been gone I've been thinking of ways to get you to come back sooner."

Belle raised a brow. "You're that impatient to have me back?"

"I thought of blackmail, threatening to evict all of your friends that rent from me, shutting down the inn and diner, and if all else failed, I'd cut off the funding for your library." Gold told her - completely serious in having had these thoughts, though they both knew he would not have taken any such actions. Probably.

Belle smiled, "You're so charming when you're being devious."

"A man tries." Gold smiled back at her. "Stay tonight, I'll have all of your things back here by tomorrow morning. You can have your pick of the empty rooms upstairs for your books. Your own personal library, if you want it."

Belle gave a soft laugh, "Don't tempt me. Given free reign I'll fill every room of this house."

"Fine by me, I love the smell of books." Gold kissed her hand again. "What else did you do, Belle? Your apartment couldn't have taken all day."

"It didn't. A few hours in, Ruby called and then came over and we talked. I told her about the session - my side of it, I didn't tell her anything personal about you." She was quick to say.

Gold nodded at that. "I've told you everything, Belle, but I appreciate your discretion in speaking of me to your friends."

"It's your story to tell if and when you want, and they know better than to pressure me about anything too heavy. I think they're happy getting to know you in their own time." She said, lifting a hand to stroke his hair.

"A sentiment I return." He liked her friends but he felt content enough to know them on a surface-level basis. Really, he couldn't see himself having any long sit-downs with Ariel and Jasmine to talk about his son.

"Anyway, after some heavy talk, Ruby and I decided to go to Sunshire for a little retail therapy."

 _Ah._ Gold had to remember that women were different - they tended to confide in their friends when stressed, and when women flocked together for comfort, shopping inevitably followed. "Did you do much damage?"

She shrugged, a little self-conscious. "Some. What I bought for myself I left at the apartment. I probably bought more than I should have but I didn't buy out the whole Victoria's Secret."

"Shame. I'll be happy to treat you the next time the mood strikes." He told her, tickling her thigh.

Belle squirmed away from his naughty fingertips and brought up the bag she'd brought in with her. "Here, I bought you a few shirts." She opened the bag to show him three fine linen collared shirts - one black, one patterned blue and one a pale dove gray. They were his size and just looking at them he knew which suit to pair with which shirt - Belle was so clever, she had studied his wardrobe close enough to know his style preferences.

Gold was very pleased with the gifts; today had been full of surprises. "Why, Miss French, buying me clothes? This is quite scandalous."

Belle moved closer to him, dropping a kiss to his temple. "Oh, Mr. Gold, what will the townsfolk say of our unseemly association? I fear my reputation will be in such ashambles that I shall never be invited to dine with the proper ladies of Storybrooke! What ever will become of me?"

Gold released his laughter, feeling a touch giddy with relief. He put an arm around Belle's shoulders and drew her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. For a time they sat, content and cuddling on the sofa, in love and simple together. No quiet can last for long, however, not when Belle had it on her mind to start her 'chatter', as he liked to tease her. "So...um, how are you feeling? About the session and about us?"

"Hmm...which to answer first? I feel lighter." Gold said simply. "The way I had after I first told you about Baelfire. I feel that way again. It's a relief more than anything. We didn't get here the way I would have wanted for us but I'm glad that we've made it this far."

Belle leaned over to kiss his jawline. "So am I. So much has changed in the last few months. I think back to where we were, what we were to each other just last summer and yes, there were some bumpy patches but I wouldn't go back to the way things were when we were just friends. I'm so much happier with us being open like this."

"You're a strange and funny girl, Belle."

Belle laughed at him, "Why, thank you!"

"How do you feel about things?" He asked her, his hand having moved down to stroke her back.

The woman took a deep breath, thinking on how to word her answer. At this point in the day, Belle felt talked out. Speaking with Archie and Gold early in the day and then relating so much to Ruby throughout the afternoon had left Belle relieved. More than anything she wanted to move forward with him.

"I'm happy, mostly. I can't say that doubts don't creep up on me, sometimes."

"Doubts?"

"I didn't want to say in front of Archie. Yes, he's a therapist and all but he and I are friends too, so getting into the details makes things a little awkward. I sometimes worry that you may not be ready, fully ready, to move forward with me." Belle took his hand. "But I can see how hard you tried to share with me about Bae. I do wish that you'd felt ready to tell me about Milah. Finding out about the her the way I did was..."

"It must have been awful."

"It was confusing and a shock and I was angry. If you'd just told me about her from the start I wouldn't have been upset or judged you for staying in touch with her the way you have. What you shared and what you lost, it's bigger than me. I understand that and it's not something that I would have interfered with. It was you keeping her a secret that upset me more than anything. I can forgive it, I already have. But please, no more. I'm tapped out." Belle made a defeated gesture. "You know how much I love you, but if your secret family turns up tomorrow then we're done."

"No, no. Their flight doesn't get in until Thursday."

Belle sputtered a laugh and brought her arms around him. Honesty and humor - yes, they would be fine. They could both feel it.

"Oh, come here, you."

Belle kissed him full on the mouth, smiling as she did it and what was even better, she could feel Gold smiling too. They were happy together, this was right. They could move on from the pain of their pasts and forge ahead to build a life together.

Gold pulled Belle closer, until the woman was nearly in his lap. Belle didn't mind a bit when she felt his hands on her waist, exploring fingertips wandering under her shirt to the heated skin of her back. The man held her to him, his voice rumbling against the side of her throat as he shifted her atop him, making his arousal plain. "Mmm...come to bed, Belle. Please, let me-"

"Mm, yes, I've missed you." Belle told him, eager to feel his hands, his lips, everywhere. She wanted him. Rough or gentle or teasing, Belle didn't care how, she just wanted to be with him again.

Still kissing, they rose from the sofa and began to move through the hall, stumbling over each other's feet and laughing through their passion.

Joy rose in Gold - joy and desire and raw, pure love. "Yes, Belle, let me hear it." He urged, guiding her toward his bedroom. "Tell me you want this."

Belle laughed at him as she made her way down the hall, kicking off her shoes as she went. Her jacket had already been shed on the couch. She whipped off her scarf and threw it around his neck, using it as a mock lasso to draw him in closer. "You know I do!"

She gave him a quick kiss and ducked away before Gold could make a grab for her, laughing at his frustration when she slipped from his arms.

Belle charged into his room and moved onto the bed, Gold just at her heels. She'd only just settled on the bed for a moment before Gold was on her, his kisses fervent and open. He wanted this, wanted her as much as she wanted him - their future could only be built between them, on the strength of their love.

"God I've missed you Belle. I loved it when you lived here, I won't let you leave again." This he said with finality. The man had come so close to losing her, he wouldn't risk it again.

Belle raised a brow at him, "You're sure? I remember a lot of complaining about my chatter."

"I missed the chatter the most." He told her. "I hate this house when you're not in it. You must come back, Belle."

The woman furrowed her brow, seeming to consider. "Oh, Mr. Gold, let's negotiate."

"Negotiate? I'd rather command and just have you obey me." He said haughtily.

"Oh, I'll bet you would. But as you always like to tell me, I'm different from everyone else in Storybrooke - I'm not afraid of you, so there's no way I'm going to let this be too easy for you..." She teased, reaching out to card her fingers through his hair.

Gold drew back to look at her, his eyes dark with passion and hope.

"And that is why I love you."

Belle didn't argue, she only readied herself for another night spent with the man she loved.

It was where they belonged and where they would remain for the rest of their lives.


	47. New Horizons

Gold had felt love before and so he knew he was loved again.

Love was a warm body to curl against in bed. Love was the surprise of a new tea blend in his cup. Love was the settled comfort of Belle taking his invitation to feel at home in his house; the space was no longer only his own. Her books were on the nightstand and coffee table. She had the habit of leaving her high heels near the front door after work every day, a rainbow of colors to greet him when he came home in the evenings. One of his favorite things was to make a meal together but what was even better was when Belle would surprise him with a batch of his favorite cookies.

Love was a woman who could forgive, embrace and support a man who'd struggled to believe himself deserving of a second chance at life, at love.

Belle hadn't known love before Gold. Her past relationships had been few and far between, and not a one could hold a candle to what she had come to feel for him. Each day with her man was a day of discovery. With his secrets lifted, he was freer with his words and affections. Not a day passed that Belle didn't uncover a bit more of the mystery that was Mr. Gold. In her time with him, Belle had learned that love was as much a journey of self-discovery as it was an effort to pull back the layers on him, the man who had claimed her heart. She loved the way Gold held her, the feel of his hand in her hair. The way he would kiss the crown of her head, the strength of his hand in hers. His voice when he read to her. His eyes when he wanted her.

He never failed to encourage her, he made her stronger. Together, they had become great.

"How are you feeling about this?" She had asked him this question as they rose into the air, their flight destined for Spanish Wells, Milah's lovely little wedding on the beach.

Gold turned to Belle and shrugged. Dr. Hopper's advice of pure honesty notwithstanding, he wasn't sure how to answer her question. It had been months since the revelation of Milah and they had only grown stronger. Milah had kept her word and issued an invitation to her wedding. The ceremony would take place late the next morning and, given that her brother had twisted his ankle just days before, Gold had stepped up as the one to give Milah away at the altar.

"I don't know. I can't very well be upset that Milah is remarrying. She and Killian have been together for several years already." Gold had wrung his hands together in his lap as the plane dipped on landing. "I've spoken to Killian and explained what's expected of him."

Belle raised a brow, "Sorry, what?"

"Killian had children but he never married." Gold elaborated for her. "I told him what's expected of a husband. Not that he could ever hope to live up to me, of course."

Belle smiled. The cheeky ego of this man never ceased to amaze. "Oh, and I'm sure he was so happy to hear that."

The plane bobbed on the small Bahamian runway, and Gold went on speaking to Belle.

"Quite. I was a brilliant husband, you'll see. In a way I think it's cathartic to give Milah away. She's been ready to take this step for years. I think she held back on asking for a divorce for my sake, but when she asked me to sign, I was ready to let her go. I want to see her to be happy and with Killian, I know she will be." The man told her, his voice sure and steady.

They disembarked the plane and went on to wait for the car that would bring them to the hotel. The flights and layover were draining on them and both were more than ready to settle into the room to rest. Gold had made plans for their time here, and Belle was excited to explore in the morning, but now, here in the late afternoon, they wanted the quiet stillness of a private room.

The salted sea air swept around them, the sunset so warm and bright, the sky above a brilliant tapestry of color. Belle slipped her hand into his and leaned in to press her lips to his cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

Gold smiled lightly and pressed his forehead to hers, "You've brought me so far."

"No, no. We helped each other get here, and I'm so glad that we are. I love you." A lesser man might have worried that Belle only cared for the money, the status and travel that being with him at provided her, but Gold knew her better than that. Of course Belle was better off with him than without, but he knew she loved him.

It was right. It was why he had brought her here.

"I love you too, Belle. You're my second chance."

____________________________________

The hotel was modest, a far cry from the grandeur of The Four Seasons in New York. Of course, The Four Seasons was an attraction in and of itself, while the simple pleasures of St. George's Cay were the true draw here - the white and pink sands of the shore, the sunrises and the sunsets, the fishing, the waters...it was all too lovely.

Still, night was descending over the island and the lovers were tired from their travels. The next day would be spent in exploration, but for now there were no plans to leave the room. Gold lead the way in through the door and took in the room, a simple space of blue and white, a decorative bowl of seashells set atop the end table beside the bed, gauzy white curtains set over the large window.

Belle stepped in behind him, eyes wide, lips smiling as she took it all in. The exhaustion from the plane ride was wearing off, wonder and excitement was rising in them both. It had been a long day leading up to where they were now, but here they were, in a beautiful, exotic new place, together with the one they loved, away from their everyday lives.

Gold smiled as he watched Belle head to the window to catch the last glimpse of the sun as it slipped below the horizon over the water. He was so happy to give her this. "Oh, this is just beautiful. That view...I never thought I'd get to see a place like this."

"Plenty to see, plenty to do after the wedding. I've made plans for us." He told her, proud.

Belle turned to him, faux suspicion in her eyes. "What sinister plans have you got up your sleeve, Mr. Gold?"

"A glass-bottom boat ride, for one. Snorkeling for another."

The woman furrowed her brow, concerned. "Snorkeling? Can you, I mean, does the paddling aggravate your injury?"

"No." Gold shook his head. "Water therapy was a help in my recovery after each surgery, in actual fact. I can swim with the best of them."

"I'm so happy to be here." Belle breathed, looking back out the window.

"Milah invited the both of us, she wanted you here. I would have brought you, regardless. I'm glad I could give you this, I know it's what you've wanted for so long."

It was no secret that Belle had long craved adventure, she'd expressed interest and envy in Gold's travel stories since the early days of their friendship. While he would not move away from Storybrooke, the man would love to take Belle all over the world, wherever she wanted to go. Spanish Wells, with its shores of pink sand, unrivaled views and relaxed atmosphere, was the perfect place to start.

Gold rather thought it was the perfect place for many things.

Belle nodded at his comment on her desire for travel. "It is, but this is all the more special because we're here together."

The man moved to her, taking her hands. "You truly mean that."

"You know I do."

A heated gleam sparked in Gold's eyes and he stepped in closer, gently pushing Belle a few steps backward until her back met the wall. She smiled and rose on her toes to meet his lips as he dipped his head for a kiss. Lips met, soft and warm, promises of true love and growing passion.

"Mmm, we have such a busy day tomorrow, Belle." Gold murmured to her, kissing her lips again and then moving to kiss her jaw, her throat. His hands rose to rest on her hips, softly tensing on her through the material of her light tunic blouse.

Belle nodded and speared her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp. She loved his hair, but more than that, she loved to tousle it, to undo the work he put into constructing the persona of the always-formal Mr. Gold. "We do."

"The wedding in the morning, and then the reception after."

"Oh, yes, we'll be very...tied up tomorrow." Belle breathed as Gold gripped her wrists and lightly pinned them to the wall on either side of her head.

Gold smiled at her cheek. "Which means that tonight is our night."

"Our night. Yes."

Gold kissed her again, more passionate this time, heat rising in them both, sweeping through them, carrying them across the room as they moved, hungrily guiding each other toward the large white bed. The love they made that night was everything; it was raw and gentle, soft and passionate. Gold gave everything of himself to Belle, tending to her again and again before chasing his own release in the cradle of her thighs.

They breathed heavily against each other in the dark, surrounded by exotic waters.

Belle closed her eyes as Gold peppered kisses over her forehead, her cheeks and lips. She stroked the hair off his face and looked up at him, her man, the only man she'd ever truly loved. Yes, God, she did love him.

"Belle, are you happy?"

The question caught her off-guard. After all they'd shared, everything they'd been through together, all that they were to each other, could there be any doubt? "Yes. I'm happier than I ever thought I could be. Yes, I'm happy."

She stroked his naked back as he laid atop her, dragging her nails over his scars.

"So am I." Gold nuzzled her throat, inhaling her scent, mingling with his own in their passion. _I love you, I love you,_ silent promises to each other in the dark. "You brought me out of the dark, Belle. I love you."

Soft lips pressed to his forehead. "I love you, too."

________________________________

When Belle woke and stretched her arm across the bed, she found herself alone. She blinked and yawned heavily, tired from the flight and their passion. Smiling at the memory of his hands on her body in the night, Belle rolled into her back and stretched like a cat before leaving their bed. Rather than the outfit she had chosen to wear for Milah's wedding later in the day, Belle drew on her colorful kimono robe.

It was only as she drew the sleeve over her left arm that she noticed the ring as it caught on a loose thread.

The woman gasped at the sight of it, simple rose gold that held a bright diamond. For her.

Tears flooded her eyes and Belle gasped out a laugh, joy bursting through her.

_Where's he gone? Why would he leave me with this?_

She shook her head.

In so many things, Gold was fearless.

He didn't back down from professional challenges, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind, put forth risky business ventures, stand up for what he thought was right or, unfortunately, get into fights with rough men when pushed into it.

_But with me..._

No, it wasn't fear of her that had driven Gold from their room. It was only that he knew there was no need for words, and the man did so love to surprise her.

Well.

Waking up with a diamond had been the best surprise in all their time together.

_Now, where are you?_

Belle did not need to search far for him; one look out the window and she found her man on the shore not one hundred feet from their room. Gold was there, sitting in the sand, facing out toward the ocean. Waiting for her to find him.

She left the bungalow room and went to him, enjoying the gritty sand between her toes. She strode closer, heart leaping in her chest, love coursing through her veins. Belle had to fight the urge to run up to him.

He was sitting, elbows on his knees, the cane resting just at his side. She came in close but kept quiet, standing a step behind him as she looked out to the ocean and tried to see what he was seeing.

Did he see his son there, a vision when all was right in his world or did he see the future he'd just invited Belle to build with him? Perhaps it was both. She would never want him to make an effort to forget his past but she did hope, with everything she had, that he was learning to forgive himself.

Her ring was proof that he was.

Belle moved to sit in the sand with him. His eyes were so full of hope, his expression so yearning.

In this, there was nothing that needed to be said.

Belle wore his ring. She chose him.

Milah's wedding to Killian would take place later in the day, but right now everything was so far away.

This was their time.

Gold brought his arm around her shoulders and Belle cuddled in close to him.

Together, they watched the sun rise over the water.


	48. Notes

My first OUaT story has finally met its end! The following are notes on the story, chapter by chapter. Some notes will be longer than others, there were details surrounding each piece of this story and I want to take this opportunity to elaborate for any readers who may be interested.

1\. Chapter 1 = Beauty & the Bastard

The introduction of both Belle and Mr. Gold to the reading audience that set the light tone for the first several chapters of the story. At this point it's still early in their friendship, sometime shortly after having made the agreement to visit with each other in relative secret to avoid their nosy neighbors in Storybrooke. A short chapter that established a mutual attraction that's being held in check by both parties.

2\. Chapter 2 = Visit

As my original Author's Note describes, this chapter was more light dialogue between the characters. This was fun for me to write because A) I love banter and B) flirting scenes are just so much fun to write! That it's Belle and Gold doing some light back and forth flirting just made it all the more fun and it was a chance to delve into Gold's skill set as an antiques dealer/collector, not to mention plant the seeds of the Gold/Regina red herring.

3\. Chapter 3 = The Start

A flashback chapter to show Gold and Belle's first meeting and how their friendship was first formed, with a deal.

4\. Chapter 4 = Discretion

Belle and Gold bump into each other at Granny's diner and share breakfast, this being the longest amount of time they'd spent together as yet. This was meant to be a shorter chapter but I chose to stretch it out to illustrate how fast the gossip spread after they'd been seen together, and Belle's reaction to it. This chapter gave the first inkling that Belle isn't all together happy living in Storybrooke, she actually feels smothered by the small-town standby of everyone knowing everyone else's business and insulted that her new friendship with Mr. Gold could be unsettled by people acting on her behalf without her knowledge or permission in speaking to him about their meeting. I felt it was important for Belle to assert herself as a grown woman, not a little girl, who could choose who she spent time with, despite their agreement to keep things a secret to keep the town out of their business.

5\. Chapter 5 = Closer

More fluff, Belle delves into the inner workings of the library and Gold can't help but show off a few tricks - Gold is aware of his infatuation but he doesn't think their relationship could ever go anywhere and so he's resigned to ignore it. Belle is warming to him and obviously doesn't have the same reservations that Gold does. A hint of Gold's past comes up but it's largely glossed over and not brought up again until later.

6\. Chapter 6 = Rumplestiltskin

Belle gets her hair done, that gorgeous auburn cast they gave Emilie de Ravin in s2, I absolutely love her with that color! This was a fun chapter to write, it showed Belle's willingness to blatantly flirt with Gold and how easily he gives in to the promise of spending more time with her. The children's play of Rumplestiltskin was written as simplistic, but it was more of an opportunity for me to write Mr. Gold playing as the Dark One is portrayed in canon by Robert Carlyle on OUaT, with the voice and all the flamboyant gestures. More seeds of uncertainty planted regarding Regina and Mr. Gold, especially when I involved Henry and the expositionary remark of them looking like a family.

7\. Chapter 7 = Truth

Belle's remorse in dismissing Gold from the library plays, a clearer picture of Belle's financial issues with her taking a shift at Game of Thorns and her refusal to ask Gold for help, the introduction of Shane (based off a friend of mine in real life) and Gold is forced to show his teeth with a rough tenant. A few hints about Belle's father's issues and Gold's past battle with his addiction to painkillers.

8\. Chapter 8 = Summer Ends

A chapter to show the passage of time. Belle indulges herself with a fantasy about Gold, cementing her infatuation with him on an emotional and physical level. Gold does a bit of business outside of Storybrooke and introduces Mr. Howard (based off an old boss of mine - basically every character outside of the canon cast is based off of someone I know in real life), a character that reappears much later in the story. This chapter added fuel to the Regina/Gold fire and, I'll explain now that Gold's asking Regina about bringing whipped cream to her house was an inside joke between them, referencing the ice cream sundaes that Gold makes for Henry. I had planned to explain that in a later chapter but somehow it got lost in the shuffle.

9\. Chapter 9 = Winter Comes

More Regina/Gold red herrings that were such fun for me to write but it stirred the reading audience up something fierce! All the references to Gold's efforts/skills, Regina's "insatiable appetite" etc, that was all in reference to Gold's cooking for Regina and Henry when he would come to visit. I couldn't clarify that this early in the story, but in later chapters it's shown that Gold, Regina and Henry have formed a misfit family and have been meeting regularly for over a decade. Marcus is introduced to the story and his fixation with a 1965 Mustang is really mine - the '65 Mustang is my dream car! Gold giving Belle a pair of topaz earrings was a sweet little scene, and I couldn't resist writing out the visual of Belle taking his tie, tying it around her own neck and then replacing it over his, inspired by the scene between Belle and Gold in the shop after his return from Neverland in s3.

10\. Chapter 10 = Tenderness

Gold disappears off by himself due to his winter depression, a miserable time for him fully explained toward the end of the story. Belle is upset with him for vanishing without a word but recognizes that there is something more at work with him. Gold's look of pain on being hugged by Henry in the diner is in reaction to his missing Baelfire - to be lovingly welcomed by a boy resembling his own son was jarring. More flirting between Belle and Gold in the more intimate setting of her apartment. They only got half of a Netflix and Chill, but at least they enjoyed their evening together.

11\. Chapter 11 = Sketches

Another talent of Gold's is revealed, the man can do it all! Belle is feeling overwhelmed with everything and Shane is happy to step in and let her vent, even going the extra mile to offer physical comfort - strictly platonic physical comfort.

12\. Chapter 12 = The Necklace

A flash of summer lust that could have gone all the day, regretfully cut short by Belle's insecurity rearing its ugly head - if you readers can take anything from this story, take this: life is short, way too short to hesitate over fear of rejection. If an opportunity presents itself, take it - deal with the consequences later.

13\. Chapter 13 = Sunshire

Such a fun chapter to write! This was basically my idea of the perfect day-date: a gift, flowers, lunch, ice cream and what would have been a great kiss if they hadn't been interrupted. Sorry, not sorry. Yes I do like to draw out the suspense, but only because I've been on the receiving end of other authors who just love to do the exact same thing!

14\. Chapter 14 = The Surprise Guest

The introduction of baby Grace, inspired by Google pics of Robert Carlyle with his daughter as a toddler. So cute, I just had to make something of it. Poor Belle, having to move back in with her father while her building is under construction. Not an ideal situation for her, being a young woman while her father has his low-life friends in and out of his house at all hours. Cue Gold to nonchalantly offering up a spare room. I didn't put it in the story but the little bed Gold keeps in the back of the pawn shop was meant to be Bae's, hence him telling Belle that he couldn't part with it. More flirting friendship sweetness between Belle and Gold, so much fun to write but it couldn't last forever...

15\. Chapter 15 = The Sins of Her Father

The innocent flirty friendship between Gold & Belle is over. To see Gold's bad side was jarring for her, and while Gold immediately regrets his behavior, he jumps after the opportunity to keep Belle close.

16\. Chapter 16 = The Dragon & His Maiden

I felt that this chapter's title summed up Gold and Belle's relationship at this point in the story. Belle agrees to stay in Gold's house but she's upset, feeling unbalanced, angry and insecure. It was important to shake them so that I could rebuild them all over again.

17\. Chapter 17 = Reparations

Here Belle gets to work on cleaning up her father's mess at Gold's house and realizes the level of selfishness her father had reached in his not bothering to check on her after she left with Gold. Belle then puts on something of a show for the handyman, throwing Gold's previous behavior back in his face - she's feeling sassy and obstinate, and rightfully so.

18\. Chapter 18 = The Gilded Cage

More peace offerings from Gold, things are uncomfortable between them, and the gossip is moving fast.

19\. Chapter 19 = Coming Back

Belle takes the initiative in texting Mr. Gold - and a gold star goes to anyone who watches Sherlock on BBC, awesome show. Belle and Gold drop their guard and finally talk, but still don't talk about the elephant in the room, their feelings for each other. Partan Bree is delicious, I'm a huge fan of seafood - if it swims, I eat it!

20\. Chapter 20 = Troubling Texts

Belle & Gold are on the mend, but surprise, surprise, Storybrooke doesn't have anything good to say about their new living arrangement.

21\. Chapter 21 = The Gossip vs The Gospel

Belle tries to tell her friends the truth and gets fed up when they don't listen. Mr. Gold brings little Grace over to stay for the weekend, which endears him to Ruby and Snow for a minute until he declares the baby as collected collateral. What can I say? I like to end things on a joke!

22\. Chapter 22 = Red, White & Blue

Belle is found out in her feelings toward Mr. Gold, the girls watch him play with the baby until the storm breaks. Belle & Gold fall asleep together watching House of Cards - great show! - and yes, Gold was mostly asleep when he asked Belle (mistaking her for Milah) if Bae was all right. This is not to say that he thought Belle was Milah the entire time they were in bed, but in that moment he was transported back in time. Between him being half-asleep and his accent, Belle mistook the word Bae for the word baby.

23\. Chapter 23 = Scheme

Moe French shows up to set the groundwork for the inciting incident that will reveal Gold's past, and creates a big scene in town. Gold reveals he had a dog named Jock - blatant reference to RC in Hamish Macbeth.

24\. Chapter 24 = Fast Friends

The relationship between Marcus and Shane is clarified, Mr. Gold is welcomed into Belle's circle of friends. Belle kisses Gold on the cheek, another step closer to what they both want.

25\. Chapter 25 = Spark

God takes Belle with him to New York City, and takes her on the best birthday date ever - Belle does the brave thing and kisses him.

26\. Chapter 26 = Inferno

The reaction to this chapter was mostly positive, but there were a few readers who were thrown that Belle and Gold would jump straight to sex before talking out their feelings first. But them jumping straight to bed was the point of their relationship slowing down after they would talk in Storybrooke at Belle's apartment. There was love/trust between Belle & Gold, not to mention all the unresolved tension, then add in champagne and of course there would come the sex.

27\. Chapter 27 = Dawn

Belle and Gold talk about their feelings.

28\. Chapter 28 = Simmer

More sex, yay!

29\. Chapter 29 = The First Day

Belle and Gold talk some more, Gold keeps quiet about his secrets.

30\. Chapter 30 = New York, New York

Belle and Gold explore the city, more sex, more talking about their feelings, and Storybrooke worms its way back to them.

31\. Chapter 31 = Broken

Mr. Howard reappears, Gold is forced to reveal his past to the police and by extension, all of Storybrooke. I've had several questions about the end scene where Gold lashes out at Belle, and I'll explain it now: the angry kiss was brought on by high tension and their newfound passion toward each other; Gold was not truly forcing himself on Belle, she was responding to his kiss but she stopped Gold from going any further because she wanted to know what was happening more than she wanted sex - concerned curiosity won out over lust; Belle only called him Mr. Gold rather than his first name out of habit, and because I actually like that Mr. Gold never had a first name in canon, I never gave him a first name in this story.

32\. Chapter 32 = Escape

With help from Regina, Belle finds her way to Gold's cabin and offers herself as comfort to him - she cried a little after the rough sex more from being emotional and overwhelmed by climax, not because Gold actually hurt her or forced himself on her. He's in a very raw, self-loathing place here so he sees her tears as proof of him being a monstrous man, while Belle is purely concerned for him as he's obviously hurting and not ready to explain why.

33\. Chapter 33 = Patience

Belle chooses to leave Gold's house and returns to her apartment, keeping herself busy at work. Gold sends a gift, and Belle sets her starting terms.

34\. Chapter 34 = The Truth Will Out

Belle and Gold attempt to have a dinner date with massive tension between them and it's a disaster. Belle pushes Gold into telling her about his son; he reveals why he'd kept himself covered in their time together.

35\. Chapter 35 = Comfort

Gold reluctantly shows Belle his scars and speaks of Baelfire.

36\. Chapter 36 = A Fresh Start

Belle takes control in bed, tells Gold of her own past. Belle sets her terms - she wants to remain in her own apartment to give both of them some perspective on the relationship.

37\. Chapter 37 = Open

Belle meets with Marcus, who steps up for her to fend off a gossip's snide comment. Belle lures Gold out to the town square to take their connection public.

38\. Chapter 38 = Time

Belle & Gold go out on dates, meeting at each other's places to spend time together. Gold has had a few sessions with Dr. Hopper to help guide him in speaking about Baelfire with Belle. It's shown that Gold has been to meet with Moe French and has intimidated the man into turning his life around for Belle's sake. Gold's injury begins to bother him and Belle both comforts and scolds him at the same time. Gold shares about his addiction to painkillers after sinking into depression over Baelfire's death.

39\. Chapter 39 = Joy & Pain

Gold and Belle's relationship is growing, and this chapter I opened with Belle having Gold paint himself into a corner by promising her anything. Fun little scene of them giving each other manicures and masks. Another silly scene of baby Grace interrupting some RumBelle sexy time and then Grace calls Belle mama, stirring up all of poor Gold's memories and setting off the start of his winter depression. Here is where I also plant the first inking of Milah, by her texting to announce her plans to return to Storybrooke for poor Bae's anniversary.

40\. Chapter 40 = Shades of the Mother

I used this chapter for Belle to tell more of her past, revealing that she was abandoned by her mother when she was a teenager and so revealing the source of Belle's insecurity when it comes to her relationship with Gold. Also a sweet Christmas scene, just because.

41\. Chapter 41 = Lilies on the Grave

The last big reveal of the story - Milah is alive.

42\. Chapter 42 = The Former Mrs Gold

With Milah, as with Regina, I didn't make her into a villain. Milah as the antagonist from Gold's past who threatens his relationship with Belle has been done to death so I went the opposite route instead.

43\. Chapter 43 = Ghosts

More frustration and heartache caused by Gold's reluctance to share his secrets. Gold gives Belle her space and goes off to spend the night at Regina's, then plays with Henry. This is Gold's makeshift family, though their connection isn't openly understood in town. I thought it was important to show Gold interacting with Henry throughout the story to illustrate his fondness for the boy even as he's still longing for his own son. Belle made a bull-headed mistake in going off to speak with Milah, and she realized it clearly enough when Milah told her how monstrous she and Gold had been toward each other in their grief over the death of their son.

44\. Chapter 44 = Hens

This was a shorter chapter that was a pleasure to write because it dealt with Gold, Milah and Belle all interacting at the same time, rather than the round abouts of Gold/Milah, Gold/Belle and then Belle/Milah. This was the three of them gathered to discuss and remember Baelfire, and Belle being admitted to their yearly remembrance.

45\. Chapter 45 = Last Chance

Gold and Belle return to his house to talk about Baelfire and Milah - here I've made Milah into a talented makeup artist for theater and film...yes, you got it: Milah Gold is actually Robert Carlyle's wife, Anastasia Shirley!

46\. Chapter 46 = Resolution

Belle and Gold agree to visit Dr. Hopper for a therapy session, Gold gets to tell Belle about Milah in a way he would have chosen had his own need to keep his secrets not backfired and forced his hand, and Belle discusses how her parents' failings have shaped her own internalized insecurities. Belle comes back to live with Gold and the chapter ends with RumBelle getting frisky.

47\. Chapter 47 = New Horizons

The end of a long story that was such a pleasure to write! I had a blast with the bantering dialogue, the plot twists and cliffhangers, the opportunity to reshape bland characterizations and explore a friendship between Belle and Gold that lead in to their romantic love.

What fun this has been, and only made more enjoyable and entertaining by the reviews and discussions with regular readers. Thank you for everything!


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